Glee and Glory: A Regency Romance
by Miss Carmilla
Summary: Mr. Kurt Hummel succeeded in playing matchmaker for his widowed father, and his stepbrother is soon to marry as well. Will Kurt find a love of his own in the resort town of Bath? Inspired by the works of Jane Austen. Set in early 19th century England.
1. The Engagement Ball

**Author's Note:** This story will be very different from others I've written and I'm not sure it will work out, but I'm going to give it a try. Please let me know if you enjoy it and would like to see it continue.

The setting is Regency England, the year 1818, although I will deviate from history on some points. It may be better to think of it as an alternate world. This first chapter is heavily inspired by Jane Austen's _Emma_. Future chapters will be a mash-up of _Glee_ plots and Jane Austen's other novels.

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><p>Kurt Hummel, handsome, clever, and stylish, with a comfortable home and happy disposition, seemed to unite some of the best blessings of existence. He had lived nearly twenty-one years in the world with very little to distress or vex him other than the petty inconveniences of country life. The Hummels had lived for generations at Hartfield House in Lima, a village in Hampshire on the Lymington River. Kurt was fond of saying that if a man in Lima wanted a tolerable haircut he'd have to ride all the way to London to get one. Kurt himself had never actually been farther than Portsmouth; he cut his own hair.<p>

Despite the distance to London, Kurt's situation was a comfortable one. He was the only son of a most affectionate, indulgent father. His mother had died too long ago for him to have more than an indistinct remembrance of her. Kurt had taken over the running of the household at a very young age, and had seen to it that Hartfield House was both well maintained and elegantly appointed.

Kurt had been educated at home. His governess, Miss Holiday, had instilled in him a love of music, history, and modern languages. As he grew past childhood and no longer required the care of a governess, Kurt continued his studies with private tutors. This including regular lessons with Herr Schuster, the local singing master. Under the guidance of Herr Schuster, Kurt and several of the young ladies of Lima formed a music appreciation society. It was through this society that Kurt formed a close friendship with Miss Mercedes Jones, a high-spirited girl with a strong singing voice. Another special friend was Miss Christina Cohen-Chang, a sweet and modest girl with a passion for the most horrid Gothic novels.

The recitals of the Lima Music Society were a source of great joy to Kurt. He loved to hear his friends sing, and his own performances of Cherubino's arias from_ Le nozze di Figaro_ were always much admired. Unlike Cherubino, Kurt did not suffer from infatuation with all women, or indeed any women. There are some men whose interests and disposition incline them towards friendship with ladies rather than romance. Kurt was such a man. He took great interest in dress and deportment, and even before reaching his majority he was considered quite the dandy of Lima. Kurt was no less interested in ladies' fashion. He spent many happy hours with Miss Jones pouring over the pages of _La Belle Assemblée_ and advising her as to which gowns and headdresses would best suit her.

When Kurt was seventeen, his father remarried to an excellent woman who fell little short of a mother in affection for Kurt. The second Mrs. Hummel had herself been widowed for many years. Her first husband, Captain Hudson, had fallen at the Battle of Abukir. She had a son named Finley who was of an age with Kurt.

Finley was a tall, well-formed young man of cheerful disposition if no great quickness of mind. Like his father Finley had chosen a career in His Majesty's Army. He served in France during the Hundred Days, but Napoleon's defeat came too soon for Finley's regiment to win any great distinction. He was home in time to attend his mother's wedding. Finley cut a fine figure at the ceremony in his dress uniform. This did not go unnoticed by the young ladies of the village. As Kurt remarked to Miss Cohen-Chang at the wedding breakfast, "There's something very dashing about a man in a red jacket."

Burton Hummel regarded Finley as a second son, and Finley adopted the surname Hudson-Hummel in his honor. When not with his regiment Finley resided at Hartfield House, although he maintained ownership of his childhood home and planned to return there upon his marriage. For his part Kurt was pleased to welcome his new stepmother and brother to Hartfield, although the joining of the two families was not entirely without conflict. A quarrel over Kurt's decision to decorate Finley's room in the Oriental style nearly led to the latter returning to his former residence. Yet before long such arguments had turned into jokes and teasing, and the two young men became as close as any brothers by blood.

"What are you looking at?" Finley asked one day, having found his stepbrother at the window in the morning room.

"Our parents are walking in the garden," Kurt replied. "It touches my heart to see them so, arm in arm like young lovers. I did well when I arranged the match."

"You? Are your father and my mother unable to manage their own concerns? They arranged the match themselves."

"So you think, but you did not observe the many little encouragements I made," Kurt protested. "For instance, I recommended to your mother a manner of dressing her hair that I knew would be pleasing to my father."

"Would your father marry a woman for her hairstyle? I have always considered him a man of better sense."

"That was but one of the many ways I promoted the match! My father could not help but admire the kind nature and good sense of a woman such as your mother, but without me to encourage him to seek her society and smooth over such little difficulties as might arise then it all could have come to nothing. Yet we stand here now as brothers, and our parents husband and wife. I am quite pleased with the results of my efforts."

Finley laughed. "No doubt you also take credit for bringing me and Miss Fabray together!"

"No, I cannot claim to have had any hand in that," Kurt replied.

Miss Quinn Fabray was the younger daughter of one of Lima's most prominent families. In addition to her not inconsiderable fortune, she was regarded as a great beauty. After a long courtship her parents had finally consented to her engagement to Finley, earning him the envy of most of the other young men of Lima. Kurt, however, found himself immune to Miss Fabray's charms. In truth he did not approve of the match, although he kept this opinion to himself. He had no grounds to criticize Miss Fabray. Her manners were sophisticated, her dress elegant, and her fortune and family connections would be of advantage to Finley and their future children. She did not have the warm, open nature Kurt would have hoped for in a sister-in-law, but this alone was no reason to oppose the union.

Perhaps it was simply that Kurt did not wish to lose his brother to marriage so soon. For a long time Kurt had been the only young person at Hartfield, but over the past few years he'd grown accustomed to hearing Finley tromping through the halls whenever he was home on leave. He was sometimes joined by companions from his regiment. Although Kurt had always preferred the society of ladies, he came to enjoy the company of these young men as well. First among Finley's friends was Noah Puckerman, a handsome man with a loud laugh and rakish manner. Other frequent visitors were Michael Chang, a lively fellow with a great love of dancing, and Matthew Rutherford, a man of such quiet disposition that one might almost forget his presence.

These friends were all invited to Hartfield for a ball in celebration of Finley's engagement. Miss Fabray was of course to be there, along with her parents. Herr Schuster and his wife would also attend, as well as Kurt's friends Miss Jones and Miss Cohen-Chang. Miss Fabray's godmother, Lady Susan Sylvester, must also be invited, although she was a haughty woman of sour disposition.

"We have too few ladies for dancing," Finley pointed out after looking over the guest list Kurt had prepared. "You should invite one of your other friends from the music society. Why not Miss Berry?"

"Miss _Rachel_ Berry?"

"Is there any other woman of that name in Lima? She dances well and I am sure she will be pleased to entertain us with her singing."

"Indeed," said Kurt drily.

Unlike Miss Fabray, Kurt felt he did have clear grounds upon which to object to Miss Berry: she thought too well of herself, she was excessively fond of demonstrating her own accomplishments, and her taste in dress was shockingly bad. Any gown selected by Miss Berry was sure to be outmoded, an unflattering color, garishly trimmed, or often all three. Kurt's father had always encouraged him to pity Miss Berry, she was an orphan who had been left to the dual guardianship of her bachelor uncle and the family solicitor, but he had never considered her a friend. Still, it was Finley's party. If he wanted Miss Berry to attend then Kurt would not make a fuss.

On the night of the ball Kurt took even more care than usual with his appearance. Finley and his friends would all be wearing their dress uniforms. Kurt wanted to look elegant and stand out from the other men while at the same time not seeming to overshadow his stepbrother. He selected a well-cut black tailcoat with a velvet collar, a grey and black striped waistcoat, a black cravat, and fashionably tight black trousers. He admired himself in the looking glass before making his way to the ballroom.

Mrs. Hummel and Mr. Fabray began the dancing. As Mr. Hummel was partnered with Mrs. Fabray for the opening dance and Finley with Miss Fabray, Kurt found himself obligated to stand up with the fearsome Lady Susan. She was a tall woman of middle years, with a harsh voice and hard eyes that seemed to disapprove of all they saw. It was rumored that in her youth she had been spurned by Lord Remington and in consequence developed a hatred of all men. Perhaps it was Lord Remington's subsequent marriage that had incited in Lady Susan a hatred of all women. She seemed to have no affection for anyone, with the possible exception of her goddaughter.

Kurt was forced to listen to a litany of complaints from Lady Susan about everything from the behavior of the Prince Regent to the low morals of young people today to the manner in which Herr Schuster wore his hair. Then, much to his surprise, she said "You have a very fine complexion."

"Thank you, my lady. I consider this a compliment indeed, as it comes from one of such high standards."

"My standards only seem high because the rest of society is in such decline," she snapped. "Still, even in better times your fair skin would have been the envy of any maiden. Your voice is very delicate as well. If not for your trousers I would hardly know you for a man at all."

"And yet that is what I am," Kurt replied. "A man may possess certain virtues more typically associated with womankind, or indeed vice versa. You, my lady, surely possess such strength of will as would be the envy of any man."

Lady Susan laughed. "You speak well, and boldly! You may look like a porcelain figure, but you do not crack easily."

Kurt bowed. "You do me honor, my lady."

At Finley's request Kurt danced the next set with Miss Fabray. "I must not neglect our other guests, but if you will stand beside me I may enjoy her company even when we are not partnered."

Finley stood up with Miss Berry for the set, and it was not long before Kurt became aware that his stepbrother's attentions were not entirely devoted to his fiancée. Miss Berry appeared to be doing her best to hold Finley's interest, smiling up at him and chattering away rapidly.

This was not lost on Miss Fabray either. She raised an eyebrow at Kurt. "I know you have a great interest in fashion," she said, a trifle more loudly than necessary. "Are long sleeves for evening back in style? I haven't seen such a thing in years."

Kurt glanced at Miss Berry, who was wearing a long-sleeved gown. "No Miss Fabray, you are quite correct," he said. "Long sleeves are completely _passé_. The current fashion is for short, full sleeves, just as you are wearing."

"Still, I suppose one should not be too much a slave to fashion," Miss Fabray said. "A girl with thick, mannish arms might wish to conceal them, regardless of the current style."

"Speaking of gowns, might I say that shade of blue is especially becoming on you?"

"Thank you. Your brother did not notice."

Observing that the necessity of breathing had forced Miss Berry to pause in her chatter, Kurt said "Finley! Do you not think that Miss Fabray's gown is a particularly lovely color?"

"Yes, of course!" Finley replied. "All of Quinn's gowns are lovely, even if I cannot tell one from the next." Kurt did not think this was the most gallant answer, but Miss Fabray seemed pacified. Miss Berry was quiet for the remainder of the set.

For the next set Kurt danced with Miss Cohen-Chang, and then with Miss Jones. By this time all of the older people had withdrawn to the card room. Mr. Rutherford was prevailed upon to join them so there would be enough players for two tables of whist. With eight young people left in the ballroom, they had the perfect number for a quadrille. Finley naturally partnered with Miss Fabray. Kurt asked Miss Jones to do him the honor. Mr. Chang and Miss Cohen-Chang formed another pair, and Mr. Puckerman and Miss Berry the fourth.

As the dancing ended, Kurt thought to himself that a private ball such as this must be one of life's great pleasures. To be surrounded by all the handsome gentlemen and amiable ladies of one's acquaintance, to be dressed well, to dance to lively music, and to follow it all with an excellent meal – for a young person there could hardly be a more enjoyable way to spend an evening.

Only one thing was lacking, one thing that would have made Kurt's happiness complete. After all the guests had departed, after he had withdrawn to his room and dressed for bed, he stood by his window for a long time looking out at the night sky. As a child Kurt had wished upon the stars, hoping that some magic would bring him a pair of dancing shoes or ensure fine weather for a picnic with Miss Holiday. He was long past believing that the stars had any power to grant him his desires, but it could do no harm to ask them. Kurt made a wish upon every star that he could see, and the moon as well for good measure, for the one thing he wanted more than anything else. He wished that he would find somebody to love.


	2. First Impressions

**Author's Note: **This chapter draws on Jane Austen's novel _Northanger Abbey_. I recommend the fabulous blog Jane Austen's World (janeaustenworld wordpress com) to anyone interested in learning more about Jane Austen's life, work, or Regency England. The posts and links under "Social Customs During the Regency Era" have been very helpful to me.

Please let me know if you are enjoying this story and would like to see it continue.

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><p>Mr. Hummel's health had been somewhat poor in recent years, a condition his wife and son were inclined to blame upon his love of rich food. At the recommendation of his physician, Mr. Hummel decided to visit Bath. The thermal waters should do much to improve his health, and a few weeks in Bath would be a pleasant holiday for the family.<p>

Kurt was delighted at the news. His only previous holidays had been to the seaside, which while agreeable would surely pale in comparison to the many entertainments available in Bath. In Bath he could attend concerts and the theatre. He could take coffee in some small café frequented by poets and musicians. And the shopping! He had heard that in Bath there were shops of every kind.

"Shops for gloves, hats, boots, umbrellas, everything! All that a fashionable gentleman could want." Kurt sighed happily.

"A man wants more than clothing," Finley replied. The men of the family were gathered in the back parlor after breakfast, Mrs. Hummel having gone to call upon a friend. "Perhaps you will meet a girl you like, Kurt. You might be engaged by the time I see you next!" Finley was obligated to join his regiment for several weeks. He would meet the Hummels in Bath for the last portion of their stay in that city.

"I am sure I will not meet any girl in Bath who I like half so much as you like Miss Fabray."

"Miss Fabray is the most beautiful girl I have ever seen," Finley said with feeling. "I do not say you will find her equal, but so many people visit Bath that you can hardly help but meet some pretty girls."

"It's a fine thing for a girl to be pretty," said Mr. Hummel. "But that alone does not make for a suitable wife or a happy marriage. I hope you will look for someone of good character and intelligence, someone deserving of your respect as well as your affection. I was lucky enough to find two such women: your mother, Kurt, and yours, Finley."

"Do not worry on my account, father," said Kurt. "Few men are less likely to be captivated by a woman's beauty."

"Well, that's as it should be," Mr. Hummel said, rising from his chair. "I must write some letters, you lads behave yourselves." He smiled at his sons and left the room.

"I was surprised to hear you say you care nothing for beauty," said Finley. "You are always so particular about your dress and the decoration of our home."

"I care for beauty in all things," Kurt said. "I admire a beautiful woman as I admire a beautiful painting. Yet I would not marry a painting, no matter how beautiful."

"Nor I!" Finley laughed. "But surely you do not compare a living, breathing woman to a paining?"

"Perhaps I should say I admire a beautiful woman the way I might admire the artist who created a beautiful painting. It takes talent and skill to produce an attractive appearance, just as it takes talent and skill to produce any work of art."

"How different your opinions are from mine!" exclaimed Finley. "You describe just the sort of woman who holds no appeal for me. When I speak of beauty I mean natural beauty, not a painted face."

"Many a 'natural beauty' makes skillful use of powder and rouge," Kurt said. "But I speak not only of cosmetics, but of the selection of gowns and ornaments."

"I care nothing for such things."

"So you think. Yet if you admire Miss Fabray's beauty, you admire more than her natural charms. She always looks well because she knows how best to complement the work of nature with the work of her dressmaker. If she had less taste in such matters then she might be hardly more attractive than...Miss Berry!"

"You always speak so harshly of Miss Berry," said Finley. "I grant she was awkward as a young girl, but she has grown up to be quite pretty."

"Do you compare her to Miss Fabray?" asked Kurt.

"No, of course not. I only say that she is not the fright you make her out to be. She has fine eyes and a good complexion. You cannot deny it."

"As you say," murmured Kurt. He was not inclined to speak more of Miss Berry. One of the many advantages of Bath would be that she would not be present.

Shortly before the Hummels departed, Kurt learned that another young lady of his acquaintance _would_ be present in Bath: Miss Fabray. She would attend her godmother Lady Susan, who visited Bath every year to take the water. Lady Susan held that the regular consumption of sulfur water was essential to a healthy constitution. Miss Fabray had suffered from a weak stomach as of late, and her family felt that a visit to Bath would be good for her. The many shops of Bath would also provide her with excellent opportunity to purchase her wedding clothes.

Finley was delighted that he would not need to be absent from his fiancée for as long as he had expected. He asked Kurt to serve as Miss Fabray's escort in Bath until he could join them there. Although Kurt did not look forward to spending his holiday listening to Miss Fabray talk about her upcoming marriage, he could see the advantages of this arrangement. The presence of a beautiful woman on his arm would surely discourage other women from seeking his notice, and he could hardly be expected to pursue other women while accompanying Miss Fabray.

Kurt spent the last days before their departure occupied with his packing. He had resigned himself to the fact that it would be impractical to bring his entire wardrobe, but choosing which garments to bring and which to leave behind was a painful process. Finally all was ready. Finley had already left to join his regiment when Mr. and Mrs. Hummel and Kurt began their journey.

The trip was largely uneventful, with only one incident worth noting. Near Salisbury the Hummel carriage were passed by a grand liveried coach. Mr. Hummel expressed his admiration for the horses, and Mrs. Hummel for the comfortable appearance of the coach itself. Kurt observed that the family crest depicted a singing bird. He was fond of birds and kept a pet canary named Nozarri, after the famed Italian tenor. When they stopped to change horses at the next posting station, Kurt asked one of the grooms if the crest belonged to a local family.

"Why yes," said the groom. "Those are the arms of our baron, Lord Dalton. He must have been returning home to Dalton Abbey."

Dalton Abbey! The name had a thrilling sound to it. Kurt was reminded of the Gothic novels he'd shared with his friend Miss Cohen-Chang. He briefly wondered if Dalton Abbey had long, dark passages and hidden chambers. Perhaps it was haunted by the ghost of some ill-fated nun who'd died centuries ago. The Baron himself would be a sinister man, with a dark beard and moustache. But these were merely idle thoughts, almost forgotten by the time Kurt returned to his seat in the carriage.

The Hummels spent the night at an inn and arrived in Bath late the next day. Their lodgings were in Pulteney Street. Kurt was pleased to find them comfortable if somewhat lacking in elegance. However he felt confident that the appearance of the rooms could be much improved by rearranging the furnishings and making some minor adjustments to the decorations. A few small purchases might also be necessary. There were several shops nearby that he could visit in the morning, and a half mile's walk would take him to the fashionable district of Milsom Street. Kurt went to bed with his head full of redecoration plans.

The next morning Kurt set out for a shopping expedition. He went alone, as his father and stepmother preferred to spend the day settling in at their lodgings. Kurt first visited several shops along Pulteney Street. Pulteney Bridge itself was lined with shops, something Kurt had never seen before but that struck him as an example of architectural design at its most brilliant. He purchased several small tablecloths at one of these shops. The side tables at their lodgings were rather battered, and would look much more elegant if covered.

Kurt then made his way to Milsom Street. As he looked around he felt overwhelmed by the sight of so many shops. He hardly knew where to look first. Here was a bookseller, and there a haberdasher. Here was a confectionary shop, and then a jeweler, and across the street a milliner. Everywhere he looked there were shops. It seemed a kind of paradise to him.

Having only a modest sum left in his pocket, Kurt contented himself largely with window shopping. He wandered from shop to shop, sometimes going inside to inspect the wares more carefully. He tried on several hats, although he had no intention of buying any. The cravats were a bigger temptation. Kurt wanted one in every shade. He reminded himself that he already had a large collection of cravats, including several in colors for daytime wear – that morning he had selected a _coquelicot_ red to wear with his black jacket and waistcoat – but he had never seen such variety before. Finally he decided that he could allow himself one new cravat. After much consideration he selected one with a deep blue pattern. His only other purchase that morning was some sheet music. The house on Pulteney Street had come furnished with a piano, but Kurt had not thought to bring any of his music from Lima.

After leaving the music shop Kurt began to make his way back towards his lodgings. He had not gone far before he realized he had lost his bearings. He had visited so many shops and turned down so many little side streets that he was no longer certain which way he should go. It was by now noontime and the position of the sun gave him no help.

Another young man had been walking in the same direction as Kurt, passing him as Kurt stopped to look around. "Excuse me! Sir!" Kurt called to him. "Could I ask you for directions? I am new to Bath."

The other man stopped and turned to him with a bow. "Blaine Anderson," he said, politely extending his hand.

Kurt shook hands and offered his own name. He was struck most favorably by Mr. Anderson's appearance. He was not a tall man, but he had a pleasing countenance and lively eyes. His dark, curly hair gave him a romantic appearance. He was wearing a red and blue striped cravat with a navy jacket, a combination that Kurt considered quite dapper. But Kurt had not stopped him merely to admire his clothing. "I am trying to get to Pulteney Street; could you tell me the way?"

Mr. Anderson smiled. He had very good teeth, Kurt thought. "Yes, in fact I know a shortcut," he said. "Come, I'll show you." He offered Kurt his arm.

As they walked through the streets together they chatted amicably about such subjects as naturally arose. Kurt explained that he had arrived in Bath only the night before and was accompanied by his father and stepmother. Mr. Anderson was alone at present, his own father having left to attend to some matters at their country estate. They discussed shopping and Mr. Anderson recommended his favorite hat shop. Kurt mentioned having purchased sheet music and was pleased to discover that Mr. Anderson was also a lover of music.

"There are concerts at the Upper Rooms every Wednesday night," said Mr. Anderson. "Many are quite good, although I'm afraid you will find them terribly crowded." Kurt was much obliged for this information.

Soon they reached the Pulteney Bridge. Kurt could easily find his way from there, but he was reluctant to bid farewell to his new acquaintance. He was pleased that Mr. Anderson showed no inclination to turn back, and instead continued walking with Kurt over the bridge. He paused only to admire the hothouse blossoms displayed in the window of a flower shop.

"'A thing of beauty is a joy forever,'" he said with a faint smile. "Do you care for poetry, Mr. Hummel? Modern poetry, I mean."

"Yes, some of it."

"That was John Keats, from his poem about Endymion. You know the story of Endymion?"

"The Greek tale?" Kurt asked. Miss Holiday had been enthusiastic about classical mythology. She had costumed herself in a bedsheet to teach Kurt about the great pagan gods and heroes. "Yes, he was the shepherd who slept forever."

"And was young forever," added Mr. Anderson.

"He was beloved by the moon goddess."

"And loved her in return, in his dreams. That is the matter of the poem: to find love in a dream."

"So love is an illusion."

"No," Mr. Anderson said softly. "He fears it is so when he wakes – that his love was only a dream, that he will never find such love on earth – but in the end he learns that it was real. It was real all along. He only had to prove himself worthy." Mr. Anderson paused, then laughed suddenly. "You must think me very queer! No, you are too polite to say so, but I see you are wondering how you might best make your escape."

"Not at all," protested Kurt. "I have been enjoying our conversation."

"You are too kind. I did not mean to go on so about this poem. I intended only to say that I felt there was great truth in that line, 'A thing of beauty is a joy forever.' It makes my heart glad to look upon something beautiful." He touched his hand to the glass of the flower shop window for a moment before turning back to Kurt. "But I am keeping you from your parents. Are we near to your lodgings? Here, let me carry one of your parcels. It is my penance for plaguing you with my nonsense."

"Yes, we are quite near now. Thank you," he said as Mr. Anderson took the largest parcel from him. They resumed their walk. "I agree with you," Kurt said after a moment. "About that bit of poetry. You are carrying now some cloths I purchased for the side tables in my lodgings. My father will ask me why I spent money on such a frivolous thing, but they will improve the appearance of the rooms. We will feel happier and more at ease in a beautiful room than in a drab one. I seek always to beautify my surroundings. I do not consider it a frivolous pursuit, for it brings joy to my heart and to those of others."

"Does your father object to your purchases of household decorations?" asked Mr. Anderson.

Kurt laughed. "Yes, and clothing as well! He worries that I will become a spendthrift. I always remind him that I managed our household expenses for many years and failed to ruin us. He has a comfortable income, and I developed a talent for doing much with a little money. As for my own allowance, I spend on clothing what other men in my situation might spend on drink or games. I may be thought a dandy, but at least I have something to show for my expenses."

Mr. Anderson glanced at Kurt and smiled. "Indeed you do," he said. Kurt was not sure whether he referred to Kurt's parcels or to his ensemble, but he smiled back.

All too soon they reached the door of Kurt's lodgings. "Well, this is the place," he said. "You were very kind to assist me."

Mr. Anderson handed back the parcel he had been carrying. "Please think nothing of it. I was walking with no purpose when you called out to me. I may take my exercise in this direction as easily as any other, and it is always pleasant to have a companion." He tipped his hat, said "I hope you and your family will have a most enjoyable stay in Bath," and bid Kurt a good day.

Kurt let himself in the front door. He hummed to himself as he set down his parcels and removed his hat. He was going to enjoy Bath even more than he had expected. To have made such a delightful acquaintance on his first day was good fortune indeed. Kurt thought that Mr. Anderson was altogether one of the most agreeable men he had ever met. He looked forward to seeing him again.

It was only then that Kurt realized he had no idea of Mr. Anderson's address.


	3. Old Friends and New

**Author's Note:** For this chapter I must provide my gentle readers with a few notes about history and the liberties that I am taking with it.

In early 19th century England there was little if any notion of people having sexual orientations. Any reasonably sophisticated person was aware of the existence of homosexual _behavior_, but such behavior was considered both unnatural and illegal. A man convicted of sodomy could be executed. Even propositioning another man for sex was a crime that could be punished with imprisonment. Society was to some extent willing to overlook youthful indiscretions, but a grown man's reputation could be ruined by rumors that he engaged in "unnatural acts". Rumors of this nature played a large role in poet Lord Byron's decision to leave England in 1816.

On a lighter note, during the Regency Era it was not proper for men and women to write personal letters to each other unless they were related, married, or engaged. So while Finley could write to his fiancée Quinn, Kurt could not correspond with his female friends.

Thinking of Kurt's friends, I have broken with history in order to allow him to remain friends with the same diverse group of characters that appear on _Glee_. Please imagine that my story is set in an alternate version of the early 19th century where people of different races and religions interacted freely and without fear of legal discrimination. However, in my fictional setting it is still common and more or less socially acceptable to believe that whites are superior to other races and Christianity superior to other religions.

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><p>Kurt returned to Milsom Street the following day. He saw <em>grande dames<em> and dandies, tradesmen and flower sellers, but alas, no Mr. Anderson. He even visited the hat shop Mr. Anderson had recommended, in vain.

Mr. Hummel was somewhat surprised to see his son return home from the shopping district without a single parcel, but did not question him. Kurt did not offer the true reason for his outing. He did not think he could explain why he was so eager to meet Mr. Anderson again. He could have said scarcely anything about Mr. Anderson that would be of interest to his father. Kurt knew nothing of Mr. Anderson's opinions on the prime minister. Whether or not Mr. Anderson followed cricket was a complete mystery to him. He could not even vouch for Mr. Anderson's skill at whist.

What Kurt did know about Mr. Anderson was that he was a man of graceful, easy manners. He cared for music and poetry. He was moved by beauty. Though they had spent less than half an hour in each other's company, Kurt had no doubt that if they met again their second conversation would be as enjoyable as their first.

He only hoped that they would meet again. Were he still in Lima, Kurt could be sure of meeting any new acquaintance half a dozen times before the week was through. Of course, new acquaintances were rare in Lima; Kurt had known most of the village's inhabitants since his earliest childhood. Here in Bath there were endless opportunities to meet new people, yet he realized now that the size of the city and number of visitors meant he could scarcely expect to repeat a chance encounter.

A hundred times Kurt wished he had thought to ask Mr. Anderson where he was staying. As exciting as it was to be in Bath, it would be infinitely better with a friend. Kurt did not care to attend public balls alone. Shopping was less pleasurable without companions to talk to. Kurt invited his stepmother to go with him to Milsom Street and offered to assist her in selecting a new bonnet, but Mrs. Hummel had discovered that an old school friend was also in Bath for the autumn and was eager to call upon her. Mr. Hummel was content to visit the thermal baths and go for walks in Sydney Gardens. After only a few days in Bath, Kurt was feeling lonely.

He was not to be without youthful companionship for long. Lady Susan sent her card around to let the Hummels know that she and Miss Fabray had arrived in Bath. Kurt accompanied his stepmother to call upon them at Lady Susan's lodgings in the King's Circus.

A servant ushered them into the drawing room, where they were received by Lady Susan and Miss Fabray. Kurt noted that even in Bath Lady Susan wore a riding habit. This was her daily practice in Lima, regardless of the season or occasion. She owned several sets of riding jackets and skirts in different colors, all cut in the same severe style.

"Mrs. Hummel, Mr. Porcelain," Lady Susan said in acknowledgement. "Miss Fabray will entertain you; I am on my way to take the waters. I find sulfur water to be most effective at stimulating the production of bile. It is only when my innards are quite full of bile that I feel my best." With that she swept out of the room.

Miss Fabray seemed happy to play hostess. She called for tea and poured cups for Mrs. Hummel and Kurt. "How is dear Mr. Hummel?" she asked. "I hope he finds Bath a tonic for his health. Have you heard from Finley? I have not received a letter from him."

"I fear you will not find my son to be much of a correspondent," said Mrs. Hummel. "He does not care to sit when he could be active, so his pen and stationary are much neglected."

"It seems ages already since I last saw him, and ages more until we meet again." Miss Fabray sighed. "How I wish we could be married tomorrow!"

Kurt allowed his mind to wander as the two women discussed the upcoming wedding. He wondered if his friend Miss Jones had finished adding new trim to her pink walking dress. He had recommended ribbons of primrose yellow, but she had been considering blue instead. He hoped she would not consult Miss Cohen-Chang, who would surely suggest black. Miss Cohen-Chang was a dear girl but rather inclined to dress as though she were in mourning.

He could picture her now in her black lace gown, playing the piano while Miss Jones sang. Herr Schuster would praise their performance and offer advice for improvement. Mrs. Schuster would creep into the room and set down a tea tray. The singing master's wife was meek as a church mouse, her gentle nature at odds with her flaming red hair. Miss Berry would sing next. She truly had a great talent. When she sang "Queen Mary's Lament" it brought a tear to Kurt's eye. He could almost forget what an insufferable personality she had.

The sound of his name brought Kurt's attention back to Bath and the present conversation. "I am sure Kurt would love to, wouldn't you dear?" his stepmother was asking.

Kurt blinked and set down his teacup. "I apologize, my mind was elsewhere. Miss Fabray?"

"I was just saying that I hoped you would advise me on my wedding clothes. I mean to have my gown made in Bath, and I know no one with better taste than you."

Kurt agreed, both flattered at the compliment and excited at the prospect of a major shopping expedition. He still had mixed feelings about Finley's upcoming nuptials, but if Finley had to marry he could at least have the best-dressed bride since Princess Charlotte. Mr. Fabray was a wealthy man; Miss Fabray would be able to purchase the finest Bath had to offer.

"Will you call on me tomorrow morning, then?" Miss Fabray asked. "We can take luncheon at the Upper Rooms, and then proceed to Milsom Street."

"That sounds an excellent plan, Miss Fabray," said Kurt. They agreed upon a time to meet, and Kurt returned with his stepmother to their lodgings in much higher spirits than before.

* * *

><p>"Can that be Miss Berry?" asked Miss Fabray. "What is <em>she<em> doing in Bath?"

It was indeed Rachel Berry standing in the entryway of the Tea Room. No other woman could be so far behind the fashion. She wore a dark blue spencer jacket over a plain white dress in the Grecian style that had been popular some ten years before. Kurt thought it made her look like either an overgrown toddler or an elderly matron who had lost track of the changing times.

Miss Berry saw Kurt looking in her direction and smiled. Kurt forced a smile and nodded to her, as demanded by etiquette if not his own desires.

Miss Fabray pursed her lips and fanned herself. "It seems there is no hope for it. We must endure her here as well as in Lima."

Miss Berry was now approaching their table at a rapid pace. Trailing behind her, a silver lining to the dark cloud that had fallen over Kurt's day, was Mercedes Jones. He smiled with genuine feeling at the sight of his friend. She wore her pink gown, and he was pleased to see that she had indeed trimmed it with primrose ribbons. Her Indian shawl was draped around her shoulders and a chic demi-turban completed the ensemble.

"Well, this is _quite_ the Lima reunion!" cried Miss Berry as she reached their table. "I did not at _all_ expect to see familiar faces at the Upper Rooms, but they do say everyone comes to Bath!"

"Indeed, your presence here is proof enough that Bath attracts all manner of people," said Miss Fabray.

Kurt rose and bowed to the newcomers. "Do allow me to offer you a seat, Miss Berry. And you as well Miss Jones, how delightful to see you! What brings you to Bath?"

"I suddenly developed quite a passion to see Bath, and my guardians agreed it was a most excellent idea," Miss Berry explained. "There are so many opportunities to expose oneself to music and culture. I invited Miss Jones along as my companion."

"It is good to see you too, Mr. Hummel," Miss Jones said as Kurt reseated himself beside her.

"You are looking very well, Miss Jones. What a charming turban!"

"You are too kind."

"It suits you perfectly. Did you purchase it here in Bath?"

Miss Berry did not allow her the chance to answer. "Where is Mr. Hudson-Hummel?" she asked eagerly. "It is a surprise to see his brother and fiancée here but not the man himself."

Miss Fabray raised an eyebrow at Kurt and fanned herself more rapidly. It was clear what, or rather who, had inspired Miss Berry's sudden passion for Bath.

"I am my own man, Miss Berry, and do not depend upon my brother," Kurt said coldly. "Finley is with his regiment until later this month. I am escorting Miss Fabray in his absence."

"Oh," Miss Berry said. She was obviously disappointed, but quickly rallied. "Well, it is quite delightful to see you both! Did you come to Bath with your parents, Miss Fabray?"

"I accompanied my godmother."

"Is she here?" Miss Berry asked nervously.

"No, she has gone to take the waters at the Pump Room," said Miss Fabray.

Miss Berry's posture relaxed and she began looking about her. Kurt wished she would not gawk, it was so unsophisticated. "What a grand room!" she said. "And so many people! I say, do you know that man, Miss Fabray?" Miss Berry gestured to some point behind Kurt's head.

Miss Fabray glanced in the direction indicated. "I have never seen him before in my life."

"I believe he is looking at you."

"I think not," said Miss Fabray. "Perhaps he's admiring your gown, Miss Berry," she added with poisonous sweetness.

Miss Jones adjusted her shawl, looking back over her left shoulder as she did so to catch a glimpse of the mysterious man. "He is quite handsome," she observed.

Kurt began to feel curious, but did not wish to turn and gape like a country bumpkin. "Is that why he has so captured your attention, Miss Berry?" he asked.

Miss Berry blushed. "I do like a man with curly hair."

"Really, I had no idea," said Miss Fabray drily. Finley had curly hair.

Miss Berry seemed immune to sarcasm. Perhaps she was too distracted by the stranger to notice. "He has a romantic look about him. I declare, he is the image of Lord Byron!"

"Lord Byron is a wicked man," said Miss Fabray. "Only very silly girls admire him."

Miss Berry huffed. Kurt rolled his eyes. He already knew Mr. Fabray's opinions on Lord Byron – no morals, scandalous behavior, England well rid of him – and did not expect to find them any more amusing when repeated by Miss Fabray.

"Byron is reckoned a fine poet," said Miss Jones. "_Childe Harold_ is—"

"What is poetry without morality?" Miss Fabray interjected. "Byron is an adulterer and a sodomite, and England is well rid of him!"

"The sins of Sodom were greed, cruelty, and lack of compassion," said Miss Berry. "Are those the sins you speak of, Miss Fabray?"

"Do not think to teach me the Bible, Miss Berry. You are not even a Christian."

"No, I am not," Miss Berry answered with flashing eyes. "I am a Jewess, and I know the scriptures of my own people. I dare say I know them better than do you."

"Ladies, please!" Kurt exclaimed. "These are heavy matters to discuss over tea. Let us talk of more pleasant things."

Miss Jones glanced to her left again. "Such as our new acquaintance," she murmured. "He approaches."

Kurt saw the angry expressions vanish from Miss Fabray and Miss Berry's faces as they looked up. The former took on a look of demure disinterest while the latter simpered like a schoolgirl. The expression on Kurt's own face changed just as quickly to one of surprise when a voice behind him said "Mr. Hummel? Mr. Kurt Hummel?"

He turned and at last saw the man his companions had been admiring. He was indeed handsome, even more handsome than Kurt had remembered. "Mr. Anderson!" Kurt squeaked. He inwardly cursed his treacherous voice. "What a pleasant surprise, how very good to see you!" he managed to say with somewhat greater composure.

"I thought it must be you," Mr. Anderson said with a smile. "Although when last we met you were alone, and now I see you surrounded by fair friends. Your sisters, perhaps?" he asked in a playful tone.

"They are none of them my sisters," Kurt began.

"But one of us will soon become so," Miss Fabray finished with a large smile.

Kurt realized he had not properly introduced Mr. Anderson. "Ladies, I would like you to meet Mr. Blaine Anderson. He was kind enough to offer me directions on my first day in Bath. Mr. Anderson, this is my brother's fiancée Miss Quinn Fabray, this is Miss Rachel Berry, and this is my dear friend Miss Mercedes Jones." The women nodded their heads as they were introduced.

Kurt turned back to Mr. Anderson. "Are you free to join us?"

"I fear I cannot, but I am glad to have seen you here," Mr. Anderson replied. "I enjoyed our walk the other day."

"As did I," said Kurt. "I wanted to call upon you to thank you for assisting me, but I did not know your address."

Mr. Anderson blinked, then smiled. "Of course you did not! What a muggins I am, I did not even leave you my card." He reached inside his coat and withdrew a card from his pocket. Handing it to Kurt, he said "I have another engagement today, but please feel free to call upon me this week. Ladies, I hope you have a delightful stay in Bath. The city is adorned by your presence." He bowed and was gone before Kurt could recover his wits.

"You did not tell us you had made friends in Bath already," said Miss Jones.

"What a charming gentleman," said Miss Berry.

"Let me see his card," said Miss Fabray. She pulled it from Kurt's hand. He had not even looked at it yet. "Why Mr. Hummel, I see your taste in friends is as excellent as your taste in clothing."

Miss Fabray returned the card to him with a smile. Engraved upon it were the words _The Hon. Blaine Anderson, No. 28, Royal Crescent_.


	4. Much Talk of Weddings

**Author's Note:** I had written most of this chapter when I realized it would either have to be a somewhat short one or a very long one. I decided it was better to update now rather than wait until I had written everything I originally planned to cover here. Since I already know what I want to write I hope to have the next chapter up (relatively) soon. As always your reviews and suggestions are very welcome!

As a historic note, Molland's was a real pastry shop in Bath in the late 18th and early 19th century. It was a favorite of Jane Austen's and is mentioned briefly in _Persuasion_. Oh, and there really is a street in Bath called Gay Street! I am trying to stick to the real geography of the city as best I can, so if you look at a map of Bath you should be able to find all the places I have mentioned.

* * *

><p>Upon learning that Kurt and Miss Fabray were next headed for Milsom Street, Miss Berry expressed a great desire to see the shopping district as well. She could not be deterred even by Miss Fabray's most pointed remarks about how terribly dull it would be for her and how they really only intended to purchase items for Miss Fabray's <em>trousseau<em>. So it was that Kurt found himself serving as an escort to three ladies rather than one.

Fortunately this excursion proved to be less of an ordeal than he had feared. Miss Jones was a great help. She endeavored to keep a pleasant conversation going and allow the other ladies little chance to snipe at one another. Miss Berry's habit of skipping ahead like a schoolgirl also made it easier for Kurt to maintain a safe distance between her and Miss Fabray. She had darted up the street to look in the window of a hat shop when Miss Fabray decided to stop and see the lace for sale at a linen draper's.

"You must be much behind on the news from Lima," Miss Jones said to Kurt as Miss Fabray examined the bolts of fabric.

"I fear so," said Kurt. "How I have wished I could write to you and ask you to tell me everything! But now you are here, and that is better than any letter."

Miss Jones smiled at him. Kurt smiled back; he had missed her dear, friendly face. "Had we departed a few days earlier I would have nothing to tell you," she said. "But now I have the most exciting news. Christina is to be married. Michael Chang proposed before he left to join his regiment. They will wed in the spring."

"What a lovely couple they will be!" exclaimed Kurt. "Michael Chang is a lucky fellow. Indeed we are all lucky, as we now have two weddings to look forward to. I do enjoy a good wedding." Miss Cohen-Chang's ceremony was sure to be more interesting than the typical country wedding. Kurt wondered if she would wear a red gown as was the Chinese custom, or if she would start a new fashion for black lace.

"Perhaps yours will be next, Mr. Hummel," said Miss Jones.

"Oh, I do not expect to be so fortunate," said Kurt lightly. "I am such a strange creature, who would agree to marry me?"

"You mean you have not yet found anyone who you would be willing to ask," said Miss Fabray. "What do you think of this lace? The price is good."

Kurt inspected the lace and shook his head. "Not as good as it seems. It will fray easily and you will wish you had purchased something of better quality."

"You have an excellent eye, Mr. Hummel." Miss Fabray handed the bolt back to a clerk and led the way out of the shop. "I suppose you are as alert to the weaknesses in women, and will accept nothing but the best quality. Finley told me that you did not think you could find an acceptable bride in all of Bath. Come, you must tell us what type of woman you prefer so that we may help you."

"I cannot tell you for I do not know," Kurt protested.

"You force us to question you," said Miss Fabray. "Fair hair or dark?"

Such queries he could at least answer safely. "Dark," he said without hesitation. Once he would have chosen fair, but Kurt was quite converted.

"Blue eyes or brown?" asked Miss Jones.

"Brown."

"See, it is not so difficult," said Miss Fabray. "We have already narrowed the field considerably."

They had caught up to Miss Berry again. "What is not so difficult?" she asked.

Miss Fabray ignored her and continued to question Kurt. "Now, what sort of character would you want your brown-eyed brunette wife to have?"

"A good one, of course." He laughed to cover his discomfort. "I hope to avoid marrying a woman of low character."

"But do you prefer a quiet sort of girl, or a talkative one?" asked Miss Jones.

"One with practical sense, or a romantic sensibility?" Miss Fabray added.

Kurt saw that Miss Berry was looking at him strangely. She turned away and said "I am sure Mr. Hummel does not need us to choose him a wife. It is really none of our business."

"It is none of _your_ business," said Miss Fabray. "But the future Mrs. Kurt Hummel will be my sister by marriage. I am naturally curious as to what I should expect."

Although he wanted only to end this line of discussion, Kurt realized that Miss Fabray would not be content without a serious answer. He spoke as honestly as he could. "If I were to marry, I would prefer someone both gentle and lively, with a strong will and an affectionate nature. Someone who could love me even in my odd moods. Someone who enjoyed music as I do and who would help me to keep a beautiful home."

"And a beautiful wardrobe," quipped Miss Jones.

"It has occurred to me that my own wedding would provide me with an excellent excuse for purchasing a new suit!" said Kurt. "Really though Miss Fabray, I hope you are not planning on a double ceremony. I certainly do not intend to marry in the coming year."

"Nor do I," Miss Fabray said, and laughed at the three faces that turned towards her in shock. "I mean that I have decided I do not wish to wait for spring. When Finley arrives I will suggest that we be married before Christmas."

"So soon," said Miss Berry softly.

"We are in love, why should there be any delay?" said Miss Fabray.

"If you are in love, why the need for haste?" asked Miss Berry.

"It is such a fine day, why the need to quarrel?" Kurt exclaimed. "Look, there is a pastry shop. The famous Molland's! They must have Bath buns, does that not sound tempting, ladies? It would be a shame to visit Bath and not sample authentic Bath buns." He did not really care for Bath buns, but a full mouth would prevent Miss Berry from speaking for a little while.

"I confess I have been longing to try a Bath bun," said Miss Jones. Kurt gave her a grateful smile.

"I would not say no to some refreshment," said Miss Berry. "They must be baking something now, does it not smell delicious? I hope they have—are you quite well, Miss Fabray?"

Miss Fabray's lovely face bore a pained expression. "I am afraid not. Mr. Hummel, would you please escort me home?"

"Yes, of course, but do you feel fit to walk?" he asked, offering his arm. "I can summon a sedan chair for you."

"No, it is nothing serious, only the same ailment that has been troubling me. It will be better for me to walk in the open air."

Kurt lifted his hat to Miss Jones and Miss Berry. "Ladies, I must leave you now, but if you care to wait for me at Molland's I will return and escort you to your lodgings."

"You need not trouble yourself, Mr. Hummel. Miss Jones and I will be quite all right," said Miss Berry. "We are staying at Laura Place, it is not far from here."

"You must be quite near to my lodgings," said Kurt. "I am on Pulteney Steet."

"Oh, that _is_ very near!" exclaimed Miss Berry. "I am sure we will see much of you, and your dear family as well!"

"Please, Mr. Hummel," said Miss Fabray, leaning heavily on his arm.

Kurt lifted his hat to the other ladies again, then turned and began guiding Miss Fabray up the crowded street. Once they had walked a full block, he said "Forgive me for asking, but are you truly indisposed or were you simply unable to bear more of Miss Berry's company? I assure you that my sympathies are with you either way."

"I am indeed unwell, but I am not sorry to have cause to escape."

"Miss Berry has that effect on people."

Miss Fabray frowned. "I wish she had that effect on Finley."

"I have observed that she is very...forward with him."

"Shameless," said Miss Fabray. "Before our engagement Finley indulged in a brief flirtation with her, mostly one-sided. He confessed it all to me. Miss Berry set her cap for him and his amiable nature prevented him from discouraging her. She will not accept that he is pledged to me now."

"Is that why you wish to move up your wedding?" asked Kurt.

"It is one reason." She did not seem inclined to say more, and they walked silently for several minutes. They had reached Gay Street before Miss Fabray spoke again. "Mr. Hummel, you know much of women's dress."

"I can claim some small expertise in that field," he said modestly.

"Would it be possible for you to use your talents towards another end, to make a woman look less alluring?"

Kurt considered this. "I believe I could, but why do you wish to dim your beauty?" He had noticed the admiring looks she attracted from men they passed on the street. Many of the same men cast envious glances at Kurt. He rather enjoyed it.

"I speak not of myself but Miss Berry. Finley will arrive next week. If we cannot escape Miss Berry even in Bath, I would prefer that she not look her best when she greets him."

"She hardly needs my assistance to dress in an unflattering manner. I have never known a woman with less of a sense for fashion."

"Finley knows nothing of women's fashions," said Miss Fabray. "Miss Berry's usual manner of dress is apparently not enough to repulse him. But you are his brother, you must know his tastes. Could you advise her to dress in some way that is ridiculous to him?"

"You think of some scheme as in _Twelfth Night_?" asked Kurt.

"Precisely. Is she not a perfect Malvolio? Finley is too kindhearted to spurn her openly, but he has difficulty controlling his laughter even when it is not polite."

Kurt remembered Finley's description of "the sort of woman who holds no appeal for me." He did not think it would be difficult to persuade Miss Berry to paint her face and adorn herself to excess. The joke might be cruel, but would it not be crueler still to allow Miss Berry to continue in the hope that Finley would reject Miss Fabray for her? The sooner she moved on the better it would be for everyone.

"You are right," he said. "No woman could bear having her appearance laughed at by a man she admires. I can think of no better way to end her obsession with him."


	5. The Royal Crescent

**Author's Note:** This took a bit longer than I expected, partially because things went off in a slightly different direction than I'd planned and partially because I let myself get absorbed in research. I am much better at doing research than I am at actually getting things _written_, and spent a lot of time looking up various bits of information. A lot of this research is going to wind up reflected in later chapters, but for this one the most notable period detail is the lyrics to "When the fair rose". (I have modernized the spelling.) These were written in 1800 by William Knyvett, a well known singer and composer of glee songs. I also quote several lines from John Keats's 1818 poem _Endymion: A Poetic Romance_.

As a minor note on period etiquette, during the Regency it was acceptable for a man to call on a woman at her home, but not the other way around. Men could call on other men freely, and women on other women. Formal calls normally lasted 15-30 minutes.

* * *

><p>Kurt, ever concerned about etiquette, spent no little time pondering when he should call upon his new acquaintance. The question kept him awake until nearly midnight. Mr. Anderson's precise words had been "please feel free to call upon me this week." Did he mean late in the week, Friday or Saturday, or earlier? It was generally held as polite to respond to an invitation as soon as possible. That would be Wednesday, the very day after their meeting at the Upper Rooms. Yet if Mr. Anderson had wished for Kurt to call upon him the next day he might have said so. Perhaps it was better to wait until Thursday. Friday was surely too late, but Thursday would be soon enough to be polite without being so soon as to be an imposition.<p>

Then again, Mr. Anderson had said "please feel free". He had not specified a day. He had not mentioned any previous engagements. If he were not available until later in the week he surely would have explained this. Instead he had left the choice entirely to Kurt. He was such an amiable gentleman. Thursday would no doubt be acceptable, but it would be a shame if Mr. Anderson sat at home on Wednesday expecting a caller who never arrived. No, it must be Wednesday. Kurt finally fell asleep secure in the knowledge that what he most wanted to do was also that which was most proper.

The following afternoon, at the earliest suitable hour for calls, Kurt made his way to the Royal Crescent. The neighborhood was so named because the townhouses were arranged in a crescent shape, with the street curving to match. The front façade gave the houses the look of a single enormous building. Number 28, Mr. Anderson's residence, was near the far end. As Kurt walked along the front of the crescent he began to feel a bit intimidated by the tall, column-lined wall looming over him. He had never called at such a grand address before. Perhaps he should have waited to come. Perhaps Mr. Anderson would be busy receiving a more important guest.

He relaxed a bit when the servant at the door said that Mr. Anderson would see him. Kurt was shown into the study, where he was greeted warmly by Mr. Anderson. "Mr. Hummel! How good of you to call. I was hoping that I might see you today. Please, have a seat."

"Thank you. I am happy to find you not otherwise engaged. I was not sure what time would be most convenient for you."

"Oh, I am very idle today," said Mr. Anderson. "How are you enjoying Bath? Have you decorated your rooms to your satisfaction?"

Kurt was strangely pleased that Mr. Anderson had remembered about the table cloths. "It is still a work in progress, but I have made a number of improvements that I feel have been well worth the effort. I have often thought on that bit of poetry you quoted to me."

"You mean you have often thought on the madman who began spouting poetry at you on the street."

"Yes." Kurt felt himself blushing. "I knew no one in Bath, so I felt fortunate to meet such a cultured gentleman on my first day."

"Ah, but I discovered yesterday that you now enjoy the company of three beautiful ladies. Many men would envy you."

"But not you?"

"Not on that point. I will confess to coveting your waistcoat, but do not question me on my other sins." Mr. Anderson stood up suddenly and walked across the room. "Would you care to read that poem? It is quite long, but I would be happy to lend you my book."

Kurt accepted the volume from him. He was not terribly interested in reading a long poem, but being unsure whether he had offended Mr. Anderson already he did not wish to refuse the offer. "We were discussing poetry at the Upper Rooms yesterday when you saw me," Kurt said. Though that conversation had dealt mostly with the sins of Lord Byron, a topic Kurt was not eager to bring up, he was able to honestly repeat one remark about poetry. "My friend Miss Jones spoke highly of _Childe Harold's Pilgrimage_."

"The lady with the turban, yes?" Mr. Anderson took his seat again. "Is she from Hampshire as well?"

"We grew up together in Lima," said Kurt. "You will not know the place, it is very small."

"I feel I have heard the name, but I do not know the location. Is it near Southampton?"

"Some twenty miles. Your family estate is in Wiltshire, if I recall correctly?" Mr. Anderson had mentioned his county at their first meeting.

"Yes, at Dalton, west of Salisbury."

Kurt was unable to suppress a gasp. "Not Dalton Abbey?" Mr. Anderson must be a relation of the baron, Lord Dalton.

"Yes, do you know it?"

"We passed nearby on our way to Bath. Indeed we passed your carriage!"

"That would have been my father. He was called back to our estate," said Mr. Anderson. "Did you meet him?"

"No, we only saw the carriage as it passed by. I noticed the crest, with the singing bird. I am fond of birds." Kurt bit his lip, hoping Mr. Anderson did not think this a very silly remark.

"I am glad the family arms made a good impression," said Mr. Anderson with a smile. "Some find it strange that we have a warbler as our charge. It is not a noble creature, or a fearsome one. I like to believe that one of my ancestors chose it because he enjoyed singing, as I do."

"I would love to hear you sing."

Mr. Anderson looked embarrassed, although not as embarrassed as Kurt felt. "I am somewhat out of practice," he began.

"Please, pay me no mind," Kurt said, his cheeks burning. "I forgot where I was. I am used to the company of my friends in the Lima Music Society. We often sing to each other. I did not—"

"No, it is quite all right. When I was at university my friends accused me of looking for any excuse to sing. I was in a glee club, but our performances were not enough for me. I am sure I made myself very tiresome." Although Mr. Anderson's face bore a serious expression, there was a playful look in his eyes. "I eventually learned some restraint, but if you ask me to sing I will not be able to refuse."

"Then perhaps I should not ask," said Kurt. "I do not mean to undo all your hard-earned self-discipline."

"I am eager to be undone."

Kurt looked away and with great self-control managed to hold back several mischievous replies. Mr. Anderson was a good-humored gentleman, but Kurt knew he should not be overly familiar with such a new acquaintance. He did not wish to cause further embarrassment for either of them. Instead he said only "I am eager to hear you."

Mr. Anderson rose and walked to the center of the room. "This is a glee written for three voices, but I will attempt it on my own," he said. He cleared his throat and began to sing:

"_When the fair rose amidst her flowery train, _

_With virgin blushes greets the dewy morn,_

_Say, will the enamored nightingale remain, _

_A lonely warbler on the desert thorn? _

_When the dark geniis of the night,_

_Behold the moon slow rising over the wave, _

_Those wayward spirits curse the beauteous lights, _

_And hide with Envy in her gloomy cave. _

_Yet shall the traveler with enraptured eye,_

_As late he treads his solitary way,_

_Overlook each radiant gem that decks the sky, _

_Alone rejoicing in her brighter ray._"

Kurt applauded with enthusiasm when the song was over. Mr. Anderson had faltered two or three times during the opening lines, but once warmed up he had a strong, expressive tenor voice. Kurt judged him to be an excellent singer.

"You are too kind," said Mr. Anderson. "I had the advantage of being able to choose a beautiful song. That one is a favorite of mine."

This remark led to a discussion of their favorite vocal pieces, as well as ones they had found particularly challenging. Kurt described his performances with the Lima Music Society and Mr. Anderson told of his time as a glee club member while at Oxford. The conversation flowed so pleasantly that it seemed only a few minutes had passed when Kurt realized he had been with Mr. Anderson nearly an hour.

"I fear I have been imposing upon your good nature," he said. "Please forgive me for staying so long. I must be keeping you from your other duties."

"As I said, I am quite idle today. Thank you for coming to see me. Say, are you engaged this evening?"

"No," said Kurt. "I have no plans."

"As my father is still at Dalton, I have a spare ticket for tonight's concert at the Upper Rooms. Would you care to join me?"

Kurt gratefully accepted this unexpected invitation. The two men agreed to meet at the Upper Rooms before the concert, which was to begin at eight o'clock. Kurt then took his leave, wondering at his good fortune in having met such a charming gentleman by chance.

He had another chance meeting that afternoon, although one not entirely unexpected. As he neared Laura Place, Kurt saw his friend Miss Jones carrying a basket. He soon caught up to her, and after they had exchanged greetings he offered to relieve her of her burden.

"I went to buy some Bath buns, I have developed quite a taste for them," she explained, handing him the basket. "Have you been to a lending library?"

"Pardon?" he asked in confusion, then remembered that he was carrying a book. "Oh no, I have been to call on Mr. Anderson and he was kind enough to lend me a volume of poetry."

"He seems an amiable gentleman. Here, this is our lodgings," said Miss Jones, stopping in front of one of the townhouses. "Will you come in, Mr. Hummel?"

Kurt went inside to pay his respects to Miss Berry, her uncle Mr. Berry, and their solicitor Mr. LeRoy. They invited him to join him for dinner that evening, but he had to decline. "I am afraid I have a previous engagement. Mr. Anderson has asked me to accompany him to a concert."

"Is Mr. Anderson a lover of music?" asked Miss Berry.

"Yes, we spoke at some length on the subject."

"I am planning to host a musical party here some evening soon, we must invite him. Did you discover why he is an 'Honorable'?"

"His father is a baron," he replied. Kurt was disinclined to volunteer further details to Miss Berry.

"Is he the eldest or a younger son?"

"I did not think to ask. Shall I tell him you enquired when I see him this evening?"

Miss Berry blushed. "No, but please give him my regards."

"Mine as well," said Miss Jones. "Will you call on us tomorrow and tell us about the concert?"

"I would be delighted," Kurt said.

After Kurt had returned to his own lodgings, he sat down with the book Mr. Anderson had lent to him. The poem _Endymion_ made up the whole of the volume, some 200 pages. He skimmed through it, more interested in learning what Mr. Anderson had found so moving than in the merits of the poem itself. Some passages struck Kurt as quite beautiful, others as embarrassingly amateurish.

In the second section of the poem there was a passionate love scene between Endymion and the moon goddess that Kurt found rather shocking. He felt strange to think that Mr. Anderson had been reading lines like "_long time they lay, Fondling and kissing every doubt away_" and "_Let me entwine thee surer, surer—now, How can we part?_" Indeed, he must have read the poem over many times; the pages had been much turned and some favorite passages had been underlined in pencil. Perhaps Mr. Anderson had even taken the book to bed, and read by the light of a candle. This thought made Kurt feel very strange indeed. He skipped ahead to part three of the poem.

There Kurt found an underlined passage that pleased him very much. It was lovely and innocent, and reminded him of his own childish habit of wishing on stars:

"_What is there in thee, Moon! that thou shouldst move _

_My heart so potently? When yet a child _

_I oft have dried my tears when thou hast smil'd._"


	6. A Concert at the Upper Rooms

**Author's Note:** This took longer than I expected because the scene I wanted to write seemed appropriate for _Glee_ but rather lurid for a story in the style of Jane Austen. The following is the result of many, many revisions. I hope the tone does not seem too different from the previous chapters.

I mention briefly the presence of prostitutes on the street near the Upper Rooms. I do not know if this is historically accurate, but it is true that prostitutes operated openly during the Regency. The area around the Bath theatre was known to be frequented by ladies of the evening.

The song quoted in this chapter is from the opera _Kais, or Love in the Deserts_ by singer and songwriter John Braham. (Not to be confused with composer Johannes Brahms.) By the time this story is set Braham was a major opera star, but he had performed at the Bath Upper Room concerts earlier in his career so I thought it was appropriate to have one of his songs featured in the concert attended by Kurt and Blaine.

Happy holidays to all my readers, and thanks for your reviews! The next chapter probably won't be up until after New Year's.

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><p>The limitations of formal evening dress prevented Kurt from spending much time on the selection of his outfit for the concert. Everything was to be black and white. There was little room for creativity except in the tying of his neckcloth. Although Kurt enjoyed wearing fine clothes, he wished it was not so often necessary to make himself into a penguin. If he were attending the concert alone he might have dared a colored waistcoat, but he did not wish to risk being turned away or embarrassing Mr. Anderson.<p>

Mr. Anderson, with his brunet complexion, probably looked quite well in black and white. Kurt was eager to see him in evening clothes. He was so eager that he arrived at the Upper Rooms a full hour before the concert was to begin and was forced to stand waiting outside the building. Fortunately the weather was mild; it had been unusually warm all season, and even now in late October the nights were not cold.

On this night it was, however, very dark. Only a tiny sliver of moon was visible in the sky overhead and the Upper Rooms had not yet been illuminated for the evening's performance. The longer he stood waiting in the courtyard the more uneasy Kurt became about being out at night without a companion. He had heard that there were thieves in Bath who preyed upon wealthy visitors. While Kurt was not rich, he feared his fine clothes would make him appear a tempting target.

It was little comfort that a small group of unescorted women stood on the opposite corner. Their dress and demeanor suggested that the night streets were their usual habitat. Kurt could doubtless have procured a form of companionship from one of their number, but the prospect held no allure for him.

It was not that Kurt was a man free from desires, far from it. His were merely of a different nature. He wondered if there were any establishments in this neighborhood that catered to those with his particular tastes. As it would probably be at least a quarter of an hour before he could expect Mr. Anderson, Kurt decided to take a walk and see what was available in the area. Surely he could not be the only man about who craved a hot, sweet beverage.

Although this brief expedition did help to pass the time, it was otherwise unsuccessful. Kurt could not find any coffee houses or confectionary shops open nearby. He did pass a tavern that was doing brisk business, but Kurt did not care for ale. It seemed he would have to do without refreshment for now. The disappointment did not weigh heavily upon him. He still had the concert to look forward to, and Mr. Anderson's company. Kurt circled back towards the Upper Rooms, humming to himself as he walked.

He paused on Bennett Street to look up at the sky. With so little moonlight he could see the stars quite clearly. He found the Plough and traced a line to the Pole Star, just as Miss Holliday had taught him years ago. He found Draco as well, the great dragon. Kurt remembered that when he was a small boy, not long after his mother had died, he'd had a series of nightmares about a dragon. It set fire to Hartfield House and chased Kurt through the burning building, gnashing its huge teeth. When Kurt finally told his father of these dreams, Mr. Hummel had promised to kill any dragons that might come to Lima. Kurt had not been afraid of dragons after that. He had been certain that dragons would be frightened of his father and stay away.

Distracted by these memories, Kurt did not notice the man walking towards him until he was already very near. The man was solidly built, as tall as Finley and much broader. Kurt stepped aside to let him pass, but the stranger stopped beside him instead.

"Good evening," the man said. Beneath his greatcoat Kurt could see the collar of a military uniform.

"Good evening, sir," Kurt replied. Although he had been startled when he first saw the man, surely no one in the service of His Majesty's Army could mean him harm. The man probably wanted to ask directions or borrow a match.

The man looked Kurt up and down. "All alone?"

Kurt thought this an odd question; he was obviously alone at the moment. Perhaps the man wondered if Kurt was lost. "I am waiting for a friend," Kurt explained.

"I thought you might be," the man said with a strange smile.

He was beginning to make Kurt feel uncomfortable. The man seemed to be expecting something, but Kurt did not know what. It occurred to him that perhaps he should not trust the man's uniform; a thief might manage to steal a soldier's jacket. Kurt wondered if it would be wise to simply walk away, but the man had not actually done anything wrong and Kurt did not wish to be rude.

"Is there some way I can assist you?" Kurt asked.

"Indeed there is." The man leaned closer, much too close, and placed an enormous hand on Kurt's neck. "How much?" he breathed in Kurt's ear.

Kurt could only hope that the thief would not turn violent when he discovered that Kurt had but two shillings and sixpence in his pocket. "Please, I do not have much money—"

"Then you must earn some," the man said, and smashed his lips against Kurt's.

For a brief moment Kurt stood frozen, unable to comprehend what was happening. Then in a sickening rush he realized what the man wanted from him and wondered, horrified, _how the man had known_. How could a stranger met on a dark street know of his most secret thoughts, thoughts that Kurt had never spoken of to a living soul? Though he could confess it to no one, for years Kurt had longed for the kiss of another man.

But not like this. Not forced upon him by someone for whom he had no regard, a brute with sweaty hands whose name he did not even know. This was not what he wanted. In the space of a heartbeat Kurt's fear and revulsion turned to anger. He raised his arms and pushed the larger man away from him as hard as he could.

The man wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "You're a feisty little molly, aren't you? That kiss was not worth much, but I am sure you can do better." He reached for Kurt again.

Kurt was faster, dodging and twisting from the man's grasp. "How _dare_ you? Do not touch me!"

For a brief moment Kurt thought the other man seemed as frightened as he was. "I...I did not...get away from me!" the man shouted. He turned suddenly and walked away without a backwards look.

Kurt's surprise was no greater than his relief. Still, he did not wish to linger on the street. The other man might change his mind again and return. Kurt walked as quickly as he could and in a moment he was standing in the courtyard of the Upper Rooms once more. The building had now been illuminated for the evening and stylishly dressed concertgoers were beginning to stream into the entrance. It seemed a different world from the dark and lonely street he had left behind.

Now that the danger had passed, the anger that had sustained Kurt through the last few minutes faded away. He felt weak and confused. He leaned against the fence for a moment, trying to catch his breath.

"Mr. Hummel, is that you?" Kurt looked up to see Mr. Anderson approaching with a concerned expression on his face. He looked just as handsome in his evening clothes as Kurt had imagined. "Are you all right?"

"I will be fine in a moment. A man accosted me on the street. I thought he meant to rob me."

"Did he hurt you? Here, take my arm. You do not look well."

"I am not hurt. He grabbed me, but he only..." Kurt's voice trailed off. He did not dare tell what had really happened. He did not want Mr. Anderson to laugh or be disgusted with him. "He only frightened me. I pushed him away and ran."

"I am sorry, that must have been very distressing," Mr. Anderson said gently. "Do you still wish to attend the concert? Please do not feel obligated to stay on my account. I can find a chair to take you home."

Kurt shook his head and forced a smile. "No, would prefer to stay. Perhaps the music will calm my nerves."

The two friends joined the queue and were soon inside. For the first time Kurt saw the three great chandeliers in the Tea Room with all their candles alight. His previous visits to the Upper Rooms had been during the daytime. The chandeliers were elegant enough by day, but now the crystal sparkled with reflected candlelight.

Perhaps it was the dancing lights that made it difficult for Kurt to pay attention. Perhaps it was because he was recovering from the shock he had suffered earlier. Or perhaps it was the simple fact that Mr. Anderson was sitting next to him the entire time. Whatever the reason, the concert passed like a dream for Kurt, fragmented and beautiful. He was later able to tell Miss Jones and Miss Berry that there had been two pieces by Handel and an Italian aria performed by Mrs. Ashe only because he had saved the programme. He had a clear memory of just one song:

_On this cold flinty rock I will lay down my head,_

_And happy will sing through the night;_

_The moon shall shine sweetly upon my cold bed,_

_And the stars crowd to give me a light._

_Then come to me, my gentle dear,_

_Oh, turn those sweet eyes unto me;_

_To my bosom now creep, I will sing thee to sleep,_

_And kiss from thy lid the sad tear._

Mr. Anderson placed his hand on Kurt's during this verse and held it there for the rest of the performance.

After the concert they paused in the Octagon Room to discuss how Kurt should best return to his lodgings. Mr. Anderson again offered to hire him a sedan chair. Kurt insisted he was perfectly capable of walking. Mr. Anderson was adamant that if he walked it should not be alone and volunteered to accompany him back to Pulteney Street. As much as he liked this idea, Kurt felt obligated to refuse. "That would leave you to walk all the way back to your own home alone, through the same streets you fear are too dangerous for me."

"So I will not permit you to go alone, and you will not permit me to escort you. This is quite a conundrum!" said Mr. Anderson. "I fear we have no choice but to stay here forever. We can sleep under the card tables. It will be a strange life, but we will always have plenty of company."

Kurt feared his cheeks were growing pink and turned his head away.

"I see you do not care for my plan! Well, it is lucky that I have another. If you will walk home with me, I can drive you back to your lodgings."

"Does not your father have your family's carriage with him?" Kurt asked.

"I have my own curricle. Since the night is so mild I do not think it will be uncomfortable to ride in an open carriage. What do you think?" Kurt readily accepted this offer and assured Mr. Anderson that he would be perfectly comfortable. He felt very fortunate to have such a generous and attentive friend.

As they made their way towards the exit, Kurt heard a woman calling his name. He turned and saw Miss Fabray beckoning to him. She was standing beside her godmother.

"Lady Susan, Miss Fabray! What a pleasant surprise!" Kurt exclaimed with greater enthusiasm than he felt. "Did you enjoy the concert?"

"Good evening, Mr. Porcelain," said Lady Susan. "I never enjoy concerts, but Quinn wished to attend and I do not object to giving the people of Bath a chance to admire us. Who is your friend, and why have you not done something about his hair?"

Kurt glanced at Mr. Anderson, hoping he would not be offended by Lady Susan's remark. Fortunately his friend seemed to have taken it in good humor. Kurt performed the introductions as quickly as was proper. "Lady Susan, may I present Mr. Blaine Anderson. Mr. Anderson, this is Lady Susan Sylvester. I am sure you remember Miss Fabray."

To Kurt's surprise, Lady Susan and Mr. Anderson knew of each other already. They had never met, but after a brief exchange confirmed that Lady Susan had long been acquainted with Mr. Anderson's father, Lord Dalton. "He has spoken of you often," Mr. Anderson said.

"Cursing my name, no doubt," said Lady Susan with a pleased expression. "He owes me money on a horse."

"He said there was not a woman in England who knew horses better than you, and few men."

"None, I should say. Remind him of that for me." Having said all she wished to say to Mr. Anderson, Lady Susan now turned to Kurt. "Quinn is insistent that we offer you a ride home in my chaise. I am certain there will be room for you, you are such a small man."

"That is very kind, but Mr. Anderson has already offered me a ride home. You need not bring out your carriage just for me."

"It is no trouble, the chaise is already coming to collect us," said Miss Fabray.

"But my lodgings are so far out of your way!" protested Kurt. "Surely you do not wish to ride to Pulteney Street and back on my account when your trip home would otherwise be so short."

"Nonsense," said Lady Susan. "What is the point of keeping carriages if one cannot be seen driving about town in them? Come along now, do not dawdle." She strode towards the exit without looking back to see if she was being followed.

Miss Fabray lingered a moment longer. "Please do join us, Mr. Hummel," she said before turning to chase after her godmother.

"You can hardly refuse such a charming offer," said Mr. Anderson. "And, judging from what my father has told me, it would be unwise to offend Lady Susan! I hope we can meet again soon. Will you be free on Friday? I often go to the Pump Room to hear the band."

Kurt's joy at receiving this invitation did much to temper his sorrow at being forced away from Mr. Anderson earlier than he had intended. He thanked his friend, bid him farewell, and dashed after the two ladies.


	7. The Wardrobe of Horrors

**Author's Note:** I don't think there's much that needs explaining in this chapter, but I did want to make a couple of remarks on Regency Era fashion. During the Regency, girls who had not yet "come out" (in the debutante sense!) were expected to dress modestly. They might own gowns with low necklines, but until they were "out" they would wear a detachable collar or modesty panel to avoid showing too much bosom.

Rachel, being Rachel, is rather behind the current fashions of 1818. She likes to wear the long, Greek and Roman influenced dresses that were popular around 1800-1810. I personally like this style of dress, but to 1818!Kurt they would seem terribly outdated. By 1818 gowns were being cut in a somewhat different style and tended to have more trim and ruffles. When 1818!Rachel tries to keep up with modern fashions she overdoes things and ends up with gowns that look even worse to Kurt than her old-fashioned ones.

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><p>Once in Lady Susan's carriage, Kurt discovered Miss Fabray's real reason for offering him a ride. She wanted to secure him as her escort to an upcoming public ball, discuss plans for her wedding clothes, and confirm the date of Finley's arrival in Bath. Although Kurt also looked forward to his stepbrother's arrival and always enjoyed advising women on their gowns, this conversation did not engage him the way it normally would have. His mind was elsewhere.<p>

Were he with Mr. Anderson in that gentleman's curricle then there would be ample room for both of them on the seat. Kurt would not be crammed between Miss Fabray and the door and Lady Susan would not be making pointed remarks about how young people had a duty to make themselves smaller when necessary for the comfort of their elders. If Kurt were with Mr. Anderson, they would sit close to each other only because the night air was a bit chilly. Mr. Anderson would surely have brought a blanket, he was such a considerate gentleman, and Kurt would pull it up around them for added warmth. How cozy they would be together under the blanket, under the stars.

Kurt shifted uncomfortably. He could not think of looking up at the stars without remembering his frightening encounter earlier in the evening. He did not know whether to feel more angry or ashamed about what had happened. If any lady of his acquaintance had been mistaken for a harlot and subjected to an unwanted kiss then Kurt would have been outraged on her behalf, but his own situation was more complicated. Sitting now beside his stepbrother's bride-to-be, Kurt recalled the wish he had made on the night of Finley's engagement ball. He had looked up at the moon and stars and asked them to send him someone to love.

Perhaps the stars had done the best they could. Kurt could not love a woman, not in the way that a man should love his wife, and he understood that few men would tolerate being loved by him. His tenderest regard would inspire only revulsion from respectable gentlemen. Kurt wanted romance, he wanted music and flowers and sweet, gentle kisses, but perhaps it was foolish to hope for anything more than the rough attentions of nameless men met in the dark.

Perhaps it was foolish to hope that someone like Mr. Anderson would ever think of him as more than a friend.

Kurt masked a sigh with a yawn and apologized to Miss Fabray, who had been speaking at some length about the trim for her gown. "I am afraid I am too tired to pay you proper attention. I promise I will be more alert when we visit the mantua-maker and advise you as best as I am able."

"That reminds me, have you had the chance to offer Miss Berry advice on her appearance?" asked Miss Fabray.

"Not yet," said Kurt. "I am to call upon her and Miss Jones tomorrow. I will raise the subject then."

He was not able to raise the subject immediately upon making his call to the two ladies the next day, as they were eager to hear all about the concert. "What was your favorite piece?" Miss Jones asked after Kurt had described the evening in general terms.

"I much enjoyed the Braham song, 'On This Cold Flinty Rock'."

"Is Mr. Braham in Bath?" Miss Berry asked, her eyes wide.

"Of course not," said Kurt. "Would you not have heard if he were? He is probably in London, or on the Continent. His composition was performed by a local tenor."

"I would so love to hear Mr. Braham sing," said Miss Berry. "It has long been an inspiration to me to know that one of the most highly regarded vocalists in the world is of my own people. It is a shame his personal conduct has not always been as admirable as his singing and songwriting. I am glad that he finally married. Some say that he should have taken a Jewish wife, but I do not object to mixed marriages. Where there is love, such differences in religion and background do not matter."

"I quite agree," said Miss Jones. "What do you think, Mr. Hummel?"

He thought that Miss Berry's open-mindedness on this subject had much to do with the fact that Finley was not Jewish, but instead Kurt said "It can be difficult for a couple if their families do not approve of the match, or if society refuses to accept them."

"I do not speak of imprudent matches between people with incompatible characters, or where there is dishonesty or vice," said Miss Berry. "Certainly there are marriages which will bring only unhappiness to all involved. But if two people are well-suited to each other and are truly in love, they should not let fear of what others will think keep them apart."

This must be how Miss Berry justified pursuing a man who was promised to another. She was fooling no one but herself. Kurt knew that Finley did not love her and would never marry her. By refusing to accept this, Miss Berry risked damaging her own reputation as well as Finley's. It was time for Kurt to implement his plan.

"I say, do you ladies plan to attend the public ball on Monday?" Kurt asked. "I am to escort Miss Fabray."

"We had talked of it, but we have so few acquaintances in Bath," said Miss Jones. "I would not like to go and spend the entire evening without a dancing partner."

"Why Miss Jones, I would dance a set with you! You as well, Miss Berry." Struck by a sudden inspiration, Kurt added "I will invite Mr. Anderson to join us. Then you will each know two gentlemen." Both ladies had admired Mr. Anderson's looks and manners, and his presence would certainly make the evening more enjoyable for Kurt.

"It is a shame Finley will not be there," said Miss Berry. "Otherwise we could make three couples."

She had no shame at all. Kurt would have been embarrassed for her were she not so frustrating. "There is no need to worry about having too many ladies in our party," he said. "I am sure there will be many eligible gentlemen in attendance. The Master of Ceremonies can introduce you to other dancing partners."

"It will be hard on us with Miss Fabray there," said Miss Jones. "Most men would prefer to dance with a woman who looks like her."

"Miss Fabray is very pretty," said Kurt. "But not all men are drawn to English Roses. Shakespeare himself was captivated by a dark lady."

"Still, most prefer women whose features are not too exotic," Miss Berry said. "No one writes sonnets in praise of a nose such as mine."

"Strong features need not diminish a woman's beauty," said Kurt. "Your problem, Miss Berry, is in the way that you present yourself. If I may speak freely, your manner of dress is neither fashionable nor flattering." Seeing her hurt face, he continued quickly. "I often advise Miss Jones on such matters, will you let me do the same for you? I can instruct you on how to distract from your flaws and emphasize the best aspects of your face and figure."

"I do not wish to appear vain or immodest."

"Modesty is a virtue, but too much of it and a lady risks not being noticed at all. Do you wish to spend the evening sitting and watching others dance? I thought not. Shall we look at your gowns now? I will tell you what to wear on Monday evening so that you may appear to best advantage."

Miss Berry led the way to her wardrobe. As she moved to throw open the doors, Kurt cast his eyes away in dread of the awful sight that was about to befall him. He steeled himself and looked, barely able to suppress a cry. He felt such horror as Emily in _The Mysteries of Udolpho _must have felt when she first drew aside the sinister black veil and saw what had been hidden behind. Kurt had seen Miss Berry's gowns before, but not all at once. His face grew pale as he gazed upon this nightmarish collection of garments that had not been fashionable in many years, if ever.

"I can see this will not be an easy decision," he said.

Were Kurt's present goal to make Miss Berry look a fright then it would be simple enough. He would hardly have to do anything. Yet the task he had set for himself was a far more difficult one. Kurt did in truth intend for Miss Berry to look her best for Monday's ball. He did not aim to humiliate her publicly, and Miss Jones would surely intercede if he attempted to give Miss Berry poor advice at this point. He also relished the challenge of turning Miss Berry into the belle of the ball; this would truly be a test of his skills. If she caught the attention of some gentleman who would turn her attentions away from Finley then Kurt would consider it a job well done. If not, Kurt would still have gained Miss Berry's trust in matters of dress. She would not question the more extreme suggestions he would make later.

"One cannot go wrong with white," Kurt said at last, selecting a muslin gown he considered the least offensive. "With a few small changes this will be quite the thing. Can the collar be detached?"

"Yes, but I...I have never worn it that way. The neckline seems so...plunging."

"Miss Berry, are you even out?" Kurt asked, rather more harshly than he intended. "If you are old enough to attend a ball, you are old enough to go without being covered to the neck." He turned to Miss Jones and gestured to the true neckline of the gown. "Miss Jones, would you raise an eyebrow at a young lady whose gown was cut to here?"

Miss Jones shook her head. "I would not consider it at all surprising, though it is not Miss Berry's normal manner of dress."

"There, do you see?" Kurt held the gown up to Miss Berry. "This will need to be taken up as well. No one wears floor-length gowns anymore. Will your maid be able to perform the alteration? Excellent. That leaves only the trim to consider."

After some discussion it was decided that they would all go to the shops together. Kurt and Miss Jones waited while Miss Berry's maid pinned up her gown, then they set off for Milsom Street. Under Kurt's guidance, Miss Berry purchased some lace and ribbons to trim her gown.

More persuasion was necessary to convince her to acquire some cosmetics. "Oh, I do not wear rouge," she said when Kurt broached the subject.

"Does your uncle forbid it?"

"No. At least, I do not think so. I have never asked."

"If he objected I am sure he would have mentioned it." Kurt ushered the ladies into a perfumer's shop. "There is nothing unwholesome about a touch of rouge. You will look quite pale in a white dress without some color on your cheeks. You do use lip salve?"

Color appeared on Miss Berry's cheeks without the help of rouge. "Yes, a little rose lip salve. It has a very natural look."

"I think you will want a darker color for evening." Kurt selected for Miss Berry lip salves in deep pink and carmine red, a container of rouge, and, after some argument, kohl paint. He also advised Miss Jones on a new perfume; she seemed eager to choose one that met his approval.

Once these purchases had been made, the three returned to Laura Place. Kurt and Miss Jones assisted Miss Berry in re-trimming her gown. They had a merry time of it, taking turns singing their favorite songs as they worked. Although the gown was not finished that afternoon, enough progress had been made that Kurt trusted the ladies could complete it without his supervision. He promised to call again on Monday morning to help the ladies with the selection of their ornaments and the dressing of their hair for the ball.


	8. The Pump Room

**Author's Note:** I apologize for the delay in getting this chapter up; life has been getting in the way of my writing. It will probably be a couple of weeks before the next installment is finished.

I doubt anyone cares about this but me, but my obsessive need to research things means that the weather conditions mentioned in this chapter are accurate. October of 1818 was unusually warm, with little rain. For the sake of any other research geeks, I got this information from old issues of _The Gentleman's Magazine_ that are available free on Google Books. Each issue has a meteorological table giving the temperatures and general weather conditions for every day that month.

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><p>On Friday Kurt spent no less than two hours preparing for his meeting with Mr. Anderson. This period saw every waistcoat he had brought to Bath tried before the looking glass and his cravats tied and retied into even more styles than were listed in the <em>Neckclothitania<em>. He had finally finished dressing in an elegant day outfit all in shades of grey and was combing his hair for the third time when he heard the clock strike one o'clock. He grabbed his grey hat and hastened to the Pump Room.

The room, though spacious, became quite crowded during that portion of the afternoon when the band performed. Kurt did not at first see his friend and wondered if he had again arrived too early. Then a parting in the crowd revealed Mr. Anderson standing near the grandfather clock. Somehow Mr. Anderson managed to look more handsome each time Kurt saw him. Their eyes met, and the broad smile that appeared on Mr. Anderson's face caused a similar expression to appear on Kurt's own.

Kurt made his way across the room towards his friend. His attention was so firmly fixed on Mr. Anderson that he barely noticed the older gentleman standing with him until he suddenly found himself being introduced.

"This is the gentleman I was telling you about, Mr. Kurt Hummel," Mr. Anderson said to the other man. "Mr. Hummel, this is my father, Lord Dalton."

Mr. Anderson's father was not at all what Kurt had expected. He was neither the sinister figure Kurt had briefly imaged the first time he had heard the name "Lord Dalton" nor an older version of Mr. Anderson. The Baron was much taller than his son, with a stiff bearing and florid complexion. There was some similarity of their features, but Mr. Anderson clearly had not inherited his expressive eyes or ready smile from his father. Though he was much past his prime – Kurt guessed him to be above sixty years of age – Lord Dalton gave the overall impression of a man possessed of great mental and physical strength.

"Blaine tells me you are a friend of Lady Susan Sylvester," said Lord Dalton. "She is a formidable lady."

"So formidable that I dare not claim her friendship without being more certain of her good opinion than I am, my lord!" Kurt said with a smile. "However, I can confirm that our families are on close terms. My stepbrother Finley is engaged to her goddaughter, Miss Fabray. They plan to marry in the spring, once Finley receives his promotion to lieutenant."

"Army or Navy?"

"Army, my lord."

"I was a Navy man myself," Lord Dalton said. "And you, Mr. Hummel? Do you have a profession?"

"No, my lord," said Kurt. "I am fortunate enough to be my father's heir."

"So you appreciate your good fortune! Sometimes I fear my own heir does not." Lord Dalton glanced at his son; Mr. Anderson lowered his head and said nothing. "With no profession, how do you occupy your time?"

"I assist my father in the management of our estate. I am also active in the Lima Music Society."

"You must be much outnumbered by ladies in such an organization."

Kurt was unsure what to make of this. Lord Dalton did not have the easy manners of his son, or rather the easy manners Kurt had observed in Mr. Anderson previously. At present Mr. Anderson seemed uncharacteristically reserved. As for Lord Dalton, though his tone was perfectly polite, Kurt sensed his statement was not intended as a mere observation. A country lord with a military background was unlikely to approve of a man who enjoyed gentler pursuits.

There was, however, no point in denying the truth. Kurt raised his chin and said "I do not object to the company of ladies."

The Baron surprised him by chuckling and saying "That is just as it should be. A young man ought to enjoy the company of ladies."

"Do you care to try the water, Mr. Hummel?" Mr. Anderson asked rather abruptly.

"Yes, certainly," said Kurt. He had tasted the famous spring water of Bath on his first visit to the Pump Room and had not enjoyed it, but he would gladly do it again for Mr. Anderson.

"Let us raise a glass to our health, then. Please excuse us, father."

Kurt followed Mr. Anderson through the crowd towards the marble fountain. They joined the queue of people waiting to purchase glasses of water.

"I must apologize, Mr. Hummel," Mr. Anderson said. "I did not expect that my father would accompany me today."

"There is no need to apologize. He seems an amiable gentleman."

"He is pleased with you. He is not usually pleased with my friends."

Kurt glanced back towards Lord Dalton, who was now engaged in conversation with another old gentleman. "I am flattered to be the exception, though I cannot think why. I am sure your friends are all quite charming."

"They were do-nothings and spend-alls, or so my father would say."

"They sound very fashionable," said Kurt. "How came you to know such prodigious prodigals?"

"At Oxford, of course. As soon as I arrived I made a point of seeking out the most dissolute dandies I could find."

"The most fantastic fritterers?"

"Indeed, the most stupendous spendthrifts," said Mr. Anderson, his mouth twitching slightly. "My father has a horror of such people, so they naturally held great fascination for me."

Kurt noted Mr. Anderson's use of the past tense, "held" rather than "hold". He wondered what sort of person would fascinate Mr. Anderson at present. He longest to ask, but instead said "I am glad that I have not yet managed to horrify Lord Dalton, but it is only because he did not think to inquire as to how much I spent on this waistcoat."

"Whatever you paid, it was worth every penny." Mr. Anderson reached over and adjusted Kurt's lapel. "There. Now you are perfect." He smiled, and Kurt found himself unable to think of anything clever to say.

By this time they had come to the head of the queue. Mr. Anderson paid for a glass of hot spring water. "Shall we share this?" he asked Kurt. "I have difficulty finishing an entire glass, no matter how many times I remind myself of its healthful properties."

"I would be more than content with half a glass," Kurt replied.

"Then I will take my half first. Do not worry, I will be sure to leave you an equal portion. To the King!" Mr. Anderson lifted the glass, grimaced most comically, and took a swig. Once he had finished his share, he handed the glass to Kurt. "Your turn, Mr. Hummel."

"Do you feel healthier?" Kurt asked, discreetly rotating the glass in his hands.

"I felt a marked improvement as soon as I stopped drinking. I suspect you will feel the same."

"To your health then, and mine as well." Kurt raised the glass. He had turned it so his lips would touch the same spot as had Mr. Anderson's. This was, he thought, as close as he would ever come to receiving a kiss from that gentleman.

The romance of this idea was somewhat marred by the boiled egg smell and strange metallic taste of the spring water. Kurt finished the glass as quickly as he could.

"I must say you are looking healthier already, Mr. Hummel," Mr. Anderson remarked. "Your cheeks have gone quite pink. I suppose it is because the water is so warm."

"That must be it," said Kurt.

They stood quietly for a moment, listening to the Pump Room Orchestra and watching other visitors promenade up and down the length of the room.

"I know what you are thinking," said Mr. Anderson at last.

Kurt considered this unlikely.

"You are thinking that we should take a turn about the room," Mr. Anderson continued. "Then everyone will have the chance to admire your waistcoat. You are simply too well-mannered to say so."

"You come close, Mr. Anderson, but do not hit the mark," Kurt said. "I would like to walk about, but only so that I might better observe the clothing worn by others."

"And reflect upon the general superiority of your own taste?"

"Another near miss," said Kurt. "I will be reflecting upon the _absolute_ superiority of my own taste."

He was pleased that this made Mr. Anderson smile, and yet more pleased when Mr. Anderson took his hand. Kurt knew this was merely a friendly gesture and held no greater meaning. Still, it was a very fine thing to walk hand in hand with one's friend. They talked first about fashion, then about the many shopping opportunities in Bath, a subject which in turn led to a general discussion of the city's attractions.

"Have you been up to Beechen Cliff?" Mr. Anderson asked. "The view of Bath from the top is lovely."

"Is it a long walk?"

"Perhaps two miles from Great Pulteney Street. The cliff itself is steep, but I consider it worth the effort. I mean to go tomorrow if it does not rain; would you care to accompany me? I could call for you at your lodgings."

"I would like nothing better. It sounds like a delightful outing," Kurt said. "You remind me that I had intended to offer you an invitation as well, though it is for an indoor amusement." He explained about the ball on Monday and how Kurt would be the only gentleman in a party that included three ladies.

Mr. Anderson most graciously agreed to join them. "It would be an honor and a pleasure."

"I am sure we are all much obliged," Kurt said. "Though I enjoy dancing, I can only be partner to one lady at a time. Without your assistance, each lady would be left idle much of the evening and I would be exhausted by the end of it!"

"Even did I not enjoy dancing myself, I could hardly abandon you and your friends to such sad fates! But please, you must tell me more about the ladies so that I will not seem so awkward when trying to make conversation with them."

Kurt did not think Mr. Anderson could ever seem awkward, but he was happy to describe the characters and interests of Miss Fabray, Miss Jones, and Miss Berry. They were still discussing these three ladies and the upcoming ball when the Pump Room Orchestra finished playing for the afternoon.

Mr. Anderson looked about for his father. "I see he is still talking with General Tilney, but he will be wanting to leave in a moment. Thank you for joining me, Mr. Hummel. I have enjoyed your company."

"And I yours."

"I hope to see you tomorrow. You should look for me around two o'clock, provided the weather is fair."

"I am certain it will be," said Kurt. "We have had such fine weather lately. It has not rained once since I came to Bath!"

Lord Dalton joined them then, and the two friends bid each other farewell. Kurt made his way back to his lodgings, stopping on the way to pay Miss Jones and Miss Berry a call. The two young ladies were much pleased to learn that Mr. Anderson would be joining them at the ball. Kurt checked on the progress of Miss Berry's dress, which was well on its way to being finished, and made some final suggestions regarding the trimming of the sleeves.

That night Kurt went to bed feeling quite satisfied with himself and confident that, despite the cloudy sky, Saturday would be fine for his walk with Mr. Anderson.

He was as surprised as he was disappointed when instead it rained for the first time in three weeks.


	9. A Dreary Day

**Author's Note:** I'm afraid I'm cheating my loyal readers a bit with this update. The following chapter is a short one, and was originally written as just the first part of a much longer chapter. However, since this bit stands alone and it's going to be at least a few more days until I get the next part finished (major things are in store!), I decided to go ahead and post it separately.

* * *

><p>The rain showers continued off and on throughout the day. The rain never fell heavily, yet neither did it cease for long. Kurt felt this crueler than a truly violent storm would have been. Had he been certain that Mr. Anderson would not come, Kurt might have been able to focus his attention on some other task for more than a few minutes. Instead he kept becoming distracted by changes in the rhythm of the rain. Whenever it seemed to slow he would go to the window. Several times Kurt began to hope that the weather would soon clear, but always the rain resumed.<p>

Mr. Hummel was not blind to his son's downcast face, nor deaf to his melancholy sighs. "Kurt, I know you are disappointed, but there is nothing to be done about it."

Kurt turned away from the window. "Why must it rain _today_? Could it not wait until Sunday?"

"It rains when it will."

Although Kurt did not find this a satisfying answer, he could not argue with it either. Instead he just sighed.

"Come, your life is not so wretched as that," Mr. Hummel said. "Are you not looking forward to the ball on Monday? All of your friends will be there."

"Not all of them," said Kurt. "Not Miss Cohen-Chang."

If ever forced to choose then Kurt would have named Miss Jones as his dearest friend, but in certain moods he found the company of Miss Cohen-Chang to be preferable. Were he to brave the rain and call upon Miss Jones today, she would notice his poor spirits and try to cheer him. She would suggest they sing a merry song or that they work together on some pleasant project like the trimming of a bonnet. Miss Cohen-Chang would sit with him and allow him to be miserable for a while. She would not press him for explanations that he could not give.

Kurt could not have told her, or Miss Jones, or even his father, that he was not merely disappointed about missing a planned outing with a friend. He was disappointed because, though he knew this was the utmost foolishness, he had been unable to keep himself from hoping that it might have been more than that.

"Caroline had a letter from Lima on Thursday," said Mr. Hummel. "She told me that Miss Cohen-Chang is to marry Finley's friend, Michael Chang."

"Yes, I heard the news from Miss Jones."

"Were you much...surprised?" Mr. Hummel asked carefully.

Kurt shook his head. "No, I cannot say that I was. Theirs was not a long courtship, but they are well suited to one another. If their families do not object then there is no reason why they should not marry."

Mr. Hummel looked at him for a long moment. "Kurt, I hope you know that I would not have objected to Miss Cohen-Chang."

At last Kurt understood his father's meaning. He had perhaps sensed the nature of Kurt's disappointment while mistaking the cause. Though Kurt was not eager to explain the full extent of this mistake, he did not wish his father to think ill of his friend. "I have great regard for Miss Cohen-Chang, but I never had any expectations of her hand," he said. "She will be happy with Mr. Chang. She would not have been happy with me."

"Would you have been happy with her?"

"I am not the sort of man who could be happy when his wife was not," said Kurt.

"You will find someone," Mr. Hummel said. "Someone who will make you as happy as you make her. When you do, remember that while I admire a fine matched pair of horses, I do not require that my son and his bride be the same color."

With that, Mr. Hummel left his son to his own thoughts.


	10. Beechen Cliff

**Author's Note:** This chapter, which borrows heavily from _Northanger Abbey_ (I've even stolen a few lines of dialogue from the novel) with perhaps a bit of _Downton Abbey_, is one I've had in mind since I first thought of this story. It turned out to take a lot longer to write than I expected, partially due to real life getting in the way and partially because there's a very important conversation here and I wanted to be sure I got it right. Those of you who've been asking for some backstory on Blaine, this is the chapter you've been waiting for. Thanks for sticking with me!

There's also a bit of gossip about the royal family in this chapter, and while I hope it is all clear enough in context I'll give the relevant names and dates here. In 1818 the king was George III and his wife, Charlotte, was queen. Their oldest son George, Prince of Wales (the future King George IV), had been serving as regent since 1811. The Prince of Wales had married Princess Caroline of Brunswick in 1795. It was not a happy match. They began living separately soon after the wedding, but there was plenty of drama and scandal even after that.

Jane Austen, like many others at the time, didn't entirely approve of Caroline but thought even less of George. In a letter to a friend she wrote "Poor woman, I shall support her as long as I can, because she _is_ a woman and because I hate her husband."

* * *

><p>By Sunday both the weather and Kurt's mood had improved. Though it was vexing to have clear skies and sunshine on the one day in the week when he knew Mr. Anderson would not call, it did not seem so long until they would see each other at the ball. Kurt enjoyed a pleasant breakfast with his father and stepmother and afterward amused himself by practicing the piano and looking through old issues of <em>Ackermann's Repository<em>.

He was so absorbed in studying the plates of elegant home furnishings that he did not even look up when he heard a knock at the front door. On a Sunday afternoon it could only be Miss Fabray come to call upon Mrs. Hummel and ask if there had been any word from Finley. He was expected in Bath by the end of the week, though as a military man he was not his own master and there was always the possibility of delay.

A few minutes later Kurt heard footsteps on the stairs. He put his magazines aside and rose to greet the ladies as they entered the drawing room. Yet it was not Miss Fabray who followed Mrs. Hummel into the room.

"I hope this is not a terrible imposition," said Mr. Anderson.

"No, not at all," Kurt said. He was painfully aware that his voice sounded small and breathless. "Please, sit down."

"Will you take tea, Mr. Anderson?" Mrs. Hummel asked.

"No, thank you. I do not mean to intrude upon your hospitality. I only came to ask if Mr. Hummel wanted to walk with me today, since it is so fine. We had meant to go up to Beechen Cliff yesterday, had it not rained."

"Yes, I believe he mentioned that once or twice," Mrs. Hummel said with a smile. "Kurt, be sure you are back by five o'clock. You know how your father feels about Sunday dinner."

As soon as Kurt had changed into a pair of more sensible boots, they were on their way. "I am so glad that you called," he said as they headed towards Pulteney Road. "I had been thinking what a shame it was that it had rained on the day when I expected you to call, only to turn fine on the day you were sure not to call!"

"You overestimated my manners, then. I hope Mrs. Hummel was not shocked to find a stranger at her door on a Sunday. I could not bear to stay inside another moment."

"It is a lovely day to be outdoors," Kurt agreed. "And I am sure my stepmother considered the surprise a pleasant one. As for me, I confess I have so little religious feeling that I am no more easily offended on Sunday than on any other day of the week."

When Mr. Anderson did not reply, Kurt added "Now I have stunned you into silence."

"No, forgive me. I was thinking of something else."

"You were thinking of how wicked I am and how corrupting my influence will be."

"I do not think you are wicked at all," Mr. Anderson said, slipping his arm around Kurt's. "Though my opinion on such matters must count for little, as I became corrupted long before we met. It is a consequence of having too much education. Eton alone would have been bad enough, but then I read Greats at Oxford and now I am practically a pagan."

"You must be very clever."

"I am very useless. Did you go to school, Mr. Hummel?"

"No, I was educated privately."

"That must be why you seem so innocent."

Kurt could not read the expression on his friend's face, and was not certain whether he was being teased. He _was_ certain that he did not wish to seem innocent. Kurt wanted to be considered cultured and sophisticated. He must endeavor to show Mr. Anderson that he understood the ways of the world.

"I always thought it must be very jolly to go to school," he said. "To play games and have nicknames and all that. Did you have a nickname?"

"Andy, for Anderson. Dandy Andy." Mr. Anderson rolled his eyes. "I am not fond of it. You may call me Blaine, if you like."

"Blaine," Kurt said, trying it out. "Please call me Kurt."

"I will, Kurt." Blaine favored him with a brief but brilliant smile that made Kurt's heart flutter in his chest like a bird in a cage.

He felt so happy whenever he was with Blaine. He felt happier still to know himself now such an intimate friend of that gentleman that they might call each other by their first names. Yet Kurt could not stop himself from longing for an intimacy greater than friendship. They had known each other such a short time, but Kurt was half in love with Blaine already.

Blaine must never know. If Kurt could manage not to betray himself during his remaining weeks in Bath, he and Blaine could part as friends. They could write to each other. They might even arrange to visit each other. If nothing else, they could at least remember each other fondly. None of that would happen if Blaine ever so much as suspected the truth. Kurt hated keeping such a secret from his friend, but at the same time he was terrified that he might give himself away.

How confusing it was to feel so many things at once!

They continued walking quietly for several minutes while Kurt attempted to arrange his thoughts. Blaine seemed content not to say anything, but the silence began to make Kurt feel uncomfortable. It would be better to talk, though not on any particularly personal or serious topic. Kurt tried to think of something frivolous yet engaging. As they passed the Caroline Buildings, he seized upon the name for inspiration.

"It occurs to me that I have not asked your opinion of the Princess of Wales," Kurt said. "I am irrationally partial towards her, for she shares her name with my stepmother."

"Having met your stepmother, I do not think the two ladies share the same character," Blaine replied. "The Princess would be happier than she is, were she as good a woman as Mrs. Hummel."

"Do you not think the Prince Regent has been very horrid to her?"

"I cannot argue with you on that point. He has behaved disgracefully."

"They say he never cared for her at all, the poor creature. I do not know why he married her to begin with."

"Perhaps he had little choice."

"He is the Prince of Wales!" Kurt exclaimed. "He could have married whoever he liked."

"A title does not make a man free to marry as his heart wishes. Quite the opposite. The loftier the title, the fewer the number of ladies who might be considered suitable brides."

"He might still have chosen one he cared for. I think it is a terrible thing to marry without love."

Blaine seemed to hesitate before responding, though the pause was so brief that Kurt was not sure of its significance. "Sometimes it cannot be avoided," he said. "Yet such couples may come to love each other in time. Consider how devoted the Queen remains to the King, even in his sad condition. I believe she must truly love him, though they were hardly acquainted when they married."

"The Queen is a most excellent lady," Kurt said. "I have always thought she seemed so kindhearted, and of course I think highly of anyone who is such a great lover of music."

This was his honest opinion, but Kurt was also eager to turn the conversation in a different direction. He did not like feeling that he was arguing with Blaine. The topic of music was a pleasant one for both gentleman, and kept them occupied until they had nearly reached the base of Beechen Cliff.

Blaine paused to gaze up at the hill as they approached. "It is striking, is it not?"

"I can never look at it without thinking of the south of France," Kurt said. This was the highest compliment he could bestow upon any landscape.

"You have been abroad then?" asked Blaine, surprised.

"Oh! No, I only mean what I have read about. I suppose you have been abroad many times with your father."

Blaine shook his head. "I have never been anywhere. My father says he had enough of travel when he was in the Navy. He is fond of Bath, and we go to London for the Season, but that is all."

This was far more of the world than Kurt had seen, but he did not wish to admit it. Instead he asked "Is the path very steep?"

"Steep, but not wild," said Blaine. "Though some places may be slippery from the rain."

They made their way upwards, pausing now and then to admire the view and catch their breath. The ascent took enough of Kurt's energy and concentration that he had little left for conversation.

At last they reached the summit. Kurt was so taken by the view of Bath and the surrounding country that he forgot about being sophisticated. He exclaimed in the most artless manner about the beauty of the prospect, the great distance they could see, and how small the buildings of Bath appeared.

"Look, there is the Royal Crescent!" he cried. "Which one is your house, Blaine? Is it the second or the third from the end?"

"The third," Blaine said, from farther down than Kurt expected. Kurt turned and found his friend sitting in the grass a little distance away, his back resting against a fallen tree trunk.

"I forgot you had been here before," Kurt said, embarrassed with himself again. "I suppose after the first time it is not so exciting to see your house from afar."

Blaine squinted up at him. "Will you sit with me? The grass is quite dry."

Kurt sat down carefully beside his friend, drawing his knees up so his trousers did not touch the grass and dirt more than was necessary. "Are you very tired from our walk?" he asked. "I hope you did not overexert yourself for my sake."

"No, I am perfectly all right. I only want to tell you something." Blaine cleared his throat. "This is rather awkward, but I fear I have allowed you to form a mistaken impression of me. I do not want you to go on thinking that I am someone that I am not."

Kurt raised one eyebrow, an expression he had practiced in the looking glass until he had perfected it. "Who are you, then?"

Blaine sighed. "I hardly know myself."

"I am afraid I cannot help you with that problem," said Kurt. "I did not study philosophy at Oxford."

"That is just what I mean! You think that I am a fine gentleman who has been to university, and has a lot of pocket money, and will inherit a grand estate and a title, and—"

"And it is not true?"

"Worse than that. It is true, but it should not be." Blaine sighed again. "I am not a native here, nor to this manner born," he said, inverting Hamlet. "I am the younger son of a younger son, and half-foreign besides. I should not stand to inherit anything at all if not for the deaths of three men better suited to the role of Lord Dalton than I shall ever be."

"They were your brothers?" Kurt asked gently. When they had first met, Blaine had mentioned that his mother had passed away some years before. He had never spoken of any siblings. Kurt had assumed that Blaine was, like himself, the only son of a widower.

"One brother," Blaine said. His voice had become hoarse. "A brother, an uncle, and a cousin. My father is Lord Dalton now, and there are none left after him but me." He brought a hand up to shield his face, but Kurt had already seen the tears pooling in his eyes.

"Here, please, take my handkerchief." Kurt pulled one from his pocket and pressed it into Blaine's hand. "I am so sorry. How sad for your family."

Kurt wanted to do more to comfort his friend than offering him a handkerchief and a few commonplace words. He longed to embrace Blaine, to hold him until his grief subsided, but he did not dare. He could not expect that Blaine would trust his motives. Kurt did not entirely trust them himself. He would not take advantage of his friend's distress. Any gesture he made must be of a purely fraternal nature. Kurt tried to think what Finley would do.

After a moment's hesitation, he began to pat Blaine on the shoulder as though calming a horse. This was both unromantic and effective. Blaine dried his eyes and seemed to regain his composure, though he kept his head bowed.

"You are very kind," Blaine said, twisting the handkerchief in his hands. "Kinder than I deserve. I was not crying for my brother, though that is what any decent man would do. I was crying only for myself. Had he lived, I might have gone away. He could have been the heir and I could have been the black sheep of the family. Instead I must be both at once."

"I cannot believe you are the black sheep, unless that is meant only as a description of your hair." Blaine glanced up at Kurt and smiled weakly. Kurt gave him another pat before settling back against the tree trunk. "Blaine, you will not be the first younger son to inherit a title. When that day comes I am sure you will be a fine baron. Until then, it must be a great comfort to your father to have you at home."

"I am nothing but a disappointment to him."

"He must feel the loss of your brother greatly. That does not mean he is disappointed in you."

"That is not why he is disappointed in me." Blaine sighed and dabbed at his eyes with the handkerchief again. "He cannot forgive me for what I did."

Kurt knew that fathers and sons sometimes quarreled. He clashed with his own father on occasion. This was upsetting when it happened, but they always made up again. "Perhaps it is not as bad as you think," Kurt said. "Your father may be angry now, but it will pass."

"You do not understand."

"No, I do not, for you will not speak plainly. I doubt that whatever you did was really so terrible, though."

"I did not think so, at the time," Blaine said. "I did not think it was wrong to fall in love."

Happy creature that was loved by Blaine Anderson! Kurt envied her, whoever she was. She must be very beautiful and charming. Yet Blaine had not married her, and it had led to a falling out between father and son. "Your father did not approve?"

"It was not a suitable attachment. I knew that, but I was too young and too foolish to conceal my feelings. I did not consider the consequences. I was not concerned about myself, and I did not expect that...that my beloved would be the one to suffer for it."

"Was she a married lady?"

Blaine shook his head. "I have never loved a lady," he said in a flat tone.

"You mean she was common." A maidservant, perhaps. A farmer's daughter. An actress. There were many women who would be considered unsuitable matches for a baron's son.

Blaine looked at Kurt for what seemed like a long time. When he finally answered, it was with a single word. "No."

Kurt inhaled sharply. He did not trust himself to reply at once. He feared his own hopes were causing him to misinterpret Blaine's meaning. He had to be certain. In a voice scarcely more than a whisper, Kurt asked "A man?"

Blaine looked away. "You are disgusted," he said. "I do not blame you."

"I...I did not realize..."

"I will go," Blaine said, standing.

"No, please wait." Kurt scrambled to his feet. Blaine stopped, but did not turn around. "I meant to say that I did not realize...that we were so much alike. That you had a heart like mine."

Blaine turned to face Kurt. He said nothing, but Kurt read the mixture of anticipation and uncertainty in his eyes. He must feel the way Kurt had felt a moment before, hoping but not quite daring to believe that he had found a kindred spirit.

Kurt smiled shyly and nodded. Blaine stepped towards him and took Kurt's hands in his. Suddenly Kurt felt intensely aware of everything around him: the smell of the grass, the breeze rustling through the leaves, the soft golden color of the late afternoon light. He could feel the warmth of Blaine's hands even through their gloves.

Blaine looked up at him through the dark fringe of his lashes. "Have you been lonely, like me?"

"For such a long time," Kurt whispered.

There was no one else about. The world had gone quiet except for the pounding of Kurt's heart. Now, he thought, surely now Blaine would kiss him.

He did not.

He squeezed Kurt's hands affectionately and said "Then we must keep each other company. I felt the day we met that you and I were meant to be such good friends."

Blaine smiled so sweetly when he said this that it hardly hurt at all.


	11. Dreaming of the Ball

**Author's Note:** My readership seems to have exploded with the last chapter. Thank you all so much for your reviews, and special thanks to those of you who've marked this story as a favorite or recommended it elsewhere. I really appreciate it, although due to a difficult situation in my life right now I'm afraid I may not be able to repay you with updates as quickly as I'd like. This chapter was also delayed because of major revisions, but I think you will all like this version better than the one I didn't post.

Now that I have so many readers, I have a confession to make. I have been hoping from the beginning that this story might inspire some fan art, not because I think it deserves it but because I would love to see my favorite _Glee_ characters in Regency costumes. So to any artists out there, please let me know if you do any _Glee and Glory_ fan art and I'll promote it in my author's notes. In fact, I'd be happy to promote any Regency-themed _Glee_ fan art even if it isn't based on my story at all!

My only historic note for this chapter involves the waltz. Waltzing had been popular on the Continent for decades by the time of this story, but was only introduced to London society in 1812. Like practically every dance craze since then, the waltz was initially considered too overtly sexy to be decent; it involved a lot more sustained physical contact than other dances popular in England at the time. The Prince Regent was a big fan, but Lord Byron (who was not exactly a prude) hated it and made it the target of a satirical poem in 1813. The waltz became increasingly mainstream as the decade wore on, but through at least the 1820s there were still many who thought it too racy for unmarried couples.

Thinking of music, had 1818!Kurt not been born nearly 200 years too early he would be listening to Lady Gaga's "Bad Romance" in this chapter.

* * *

><p>At dinner that evening Mr. Hummel remarked that his son seemed unusually quiet. Kurt claimed he was trying to decide what to wear to the ball, a response calculated to discourage his father from seeking further conversation and to provide an excuse for retiring to his room earlier than usual.<p>

He had in truth planned his outfit for the ball already, and it was fortunate that he had. Thoughts of Blaine would otherwise have distracted him from the task. Kurt had learned many things about his friend during their walk, including one thing that he had scarcely dared to hope for. Blaine had a heart of the same contrary nature as Kurt's; it must love in its own way. Though each had feared that sharing this secret would mean the end of their friendship, Blaine's confession had instead brought them closer together.

Had it only brought them closer still! Kurt had thought himself resigned to never being more than friends with Blaine, but that had been before he knew that Blaine was capable of loving another man. For that all-too-brief moment at the top of Beechen Cliff, Kurt had believed that his dearest wish had been granted. Now that he was alone, he permitted himself to shed a few tears of disappointment. He knew he ought to feel grateful to have Blaine's friendship. Blaine was the only friend Kurt had ever had who understood his true nature, and Kurt could not expect to soon find another. Yet Kurt could not make himself feel content with friendship alone.

"_Je veux ton amour_," he murmured. Such sentiments seemed so blunt in English; French was far more elegant.

It occurred to Kurt that two people did not often pass directly from friendship to declarations of love, not even if they spoke French. The novels he had read and his observations of others around him all indicated that there was typically a period of courtship that came in between. During this time the couple's understanding of each other would grow. If they were well matched, their affection would grow as well, until it finally blossomed into love. Blaine considered Kurt a friend now, but this did not mean he would never love him.

Kurt had not asked Blaine about the other man, the one he had called his beloved. He had not wanted to hear Blaine speak sweetly of another. He had not wanted to know what had become of him. It must have been a sad fate, for Blaine had said he had suffered. (Scandal? Imprisonment? The gallows? No, Kurt would not think of it.) Blaine had spoken of this romance as something in his past, and this was enough for Kurt.

There was not now any rival for Blaine's heart, and Kurt believed that heart still open to love. Blaine had spoken of love the first time they had met. He had told Kurt that love was not a dream, that the lover need only prove himself worthy. Blaine had been moved by a poem about a love that seemed impossible. Surely it was no more ridiculous for Kurt to seek Blaine's love than for Endymion to seek the love of the moon.

The little book that Blaine had lent him was still on Kurt's nightstand. He picked it up and soon found the passage he remembered, the one that had made him blush:

"_Long time in silence did their anxious fears_

_Question that thus it was; long time they lay_

_Fondling and kissing every doubt away..._"

Kurt found that such words had the power to make him blush a second time. He closed the book and tucked it under his pillow. Perhaps it would bring him dreams of Blaine.

This charm must have worked, for that night Kurt had a remarkable dream. He was dancing with Blaine at a ball. All of his friends were there. It must have been a masque, for Kurt was dressed in a costume of the Scottish Highlands. Stranger still, they were not dancing any of the country dances known to Lima society, but rather the "wicked waltz". In reality, Kurt had never waltzed. In his dream, the steps came to him with ease and it did not seem wicked at all that Blaine should hold him so closely. They looked deep into each other's eyes as they turned about on the dance floor, their hips almost touching...barely touching...pressed firmly together...

Kurt awoke rather flushed. The dream had been so vivid that it took him a moment to arrange his thoughts and recollect what was real and what was fantasy. It was true that he would attend a ball with Blaine that very night. Of course they could not dance together, that would be absurd, but they could at least dance beside each other.

He was glad that he had invited Blaine to the ball before their walk to Beechen Cliff. It had been easy enough to ask him as a friend. Kurt would have been nervous had he thought of himself as a suitor at the time. He had never courted anyone before, though he had a general understanding of how such things were typically done.

In a courtship, the lady and the gentleman each had their role to play. In order to preserve the lady's modesty, the gentleman must always be the one to make advances. The lady of course maintained the right of refusal. The gentleman might express his interest by asking the lady to dance – two sets, if possible – or by inviting her out to the theater and other public entertainments. He should certainly call upon her at home and make himself known to her family.

This knowledge would have been enough to allow Kurt to make a good beginning, were he seeking to court a lady. Blaine, however, was a gentleman. He could not be expected to take naturally to the lady's role, nor was Kurt eager to relinquish a gentleman's freedom to act. So how was one man to court another? He doubted this was addressed by any of the standard etiquette guides.

Kurt had little time to ponder this matter, as there was much to do before the ball. The Hummels' carriage could comfortably seat four, so Kurt planned to convey all of the ladies to the Upper Rooms. Blaine had already offered to meet them there. However, when Kurt called upon Miss Fabray to discuss these arrangements he found that she was disinclined to share a carriage with Miss Berry.

"I can tolerate her well enough in a ballroom, but in a closed carriage? It is too much." She decided to make her way to the ball with Lady Susan as her chaperone while Kurt escorted the other two ladies.

"Do not be surprised if Miss Berry is looking unusually well this evening," Kurt said. "I have helped her to make over one of her gowns so that it resembles something from the current century."

"You have not forgotten our scheme, have you?"

"No, but as Finley will not be there it can make no difference to him how she looks. Should she catch the eye of some gentleman at the ball then our plan may not be necessary at all. Her feelings for Finley cannot run deep. A little attention from another man may be enough to convince her to set her cap for him instead."

"A fate I should not wish upon any man, but better some stranger than my fiancé," said Miss Fabray. "Thinking of your excellent sense for fashion, will you be able to accompany me to the mantua-maker this week? I wish to have my wedding gown underway before Finley arrives."

Kurt agreed to this and then bade Miss Fabray farewell until the evening. He next stopped at the Royal Crescent, only to find that Blaine was not at home. Kurt left his card, feeling both disappointed and somewhat relieved not to have the chance to speak to Blaine alone. He would see him at the ball, where the presence of the ladies would prevent Kurt from saying anything too foolish.

On his way back to his lodgings, Kurt stopped in to see Miss Berry and Miss Jones. Miss Berry's gown had been finished and was laid out for his inspection. He had worried that she had been left alone with it long enough to turn it into another of her over-trimmed monstrosities, but Miss Berry had either restrained herself or been restrained by Miss Jones. All was as Kurt had planned. The neckline of the white muslin was now low enough and the hemline high enough to be fashionable. The quantity of lace that had been added was elegant, not excessive. Pretty red ribbons provided a touch of color without being overwhelming, and Miss Berry had managed to find a matching sash. Kurt pronounced the dress ready for the ball.

He turned next to Miss Jones. "Have you decided on a gown yet?"

"I thought to wear my purple silk."

Kurt, who knew his friend's wardrobe almost as well as he knew his own, nodded his approval. "An excellent choice. The color suits you."

"I remembered you had said so," Miss Jones said with a smile.

"You must wear your Indian shawl with it," Kurt advised her. "Oh Miss Jones, you will look so regal! Have you brought your topaz cross? That will go very well. I think pearls for you, Miss Berry..."

The three friends passed a pleasant afternoon deciding which ornaments best complemented the ladies' gowns and discussing how their hair ought to be dressed. Almost before they knew it, the dinner hour was upon them. Kurt made his goodbyes, promising to return early enough to assist Miss Berry with her new cosmetics before they departed for the ball.


	12. A Division Problem

**Author's Note:** This chapter is shorter than I'd intended it to be – I had planned to cover the entire ball – but as real life continues to interfere with my writing and it has been a while since my last update, I decided to post this part now and tackle the rest in the next chapter.

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><p>"Well ladies, we have arrived," Kurt said to Miss Berry and Miss Jones as the carriage rolled to a stop. "The ball awaits!"<p>

He opened the door and hopped down to the street. All around him elegantly dressed men and women were making their way towards the portico that marked the entrance to the Upper Rooms. This would be the largest, grandest ball Kurt had ever attended. That alone would be reason for excitement, but knowing that Blaine would be there gave it a special allure.

Once Kurt had assisted the ladies in stepping down from the carriage, he took a moment to admire them – and his own handiwork. Miss Jones was a majestic figure in her purple silk gown and Indian shawl. Miss Berry looked fresh and pretty in white muslin. Each lady was further adorned with what Kurt had deemed just the right number of accessories, neither too few for fashion nor too many for elegance.

"You both look magnificent," he said, beaming.

"I am glad you approve, since you practically dressed us yourself," Miss Jones replied playfully.

"The finishing touches only," Kurt said.

His words were humbler than his feelings. Miss Jones could certainly have put together an acceptable, if perhaps less elegant, outfit on her own, but Miss Berry! There he had truly triumphed. Kurt was certain she had never looked so well. He was particularly proud of the job he had done with Miss Berry's cosmetics. Without them, she had appeared a wholesome country girl in her best gown. With her lips reddened and her eyes subtly lined with kohl, she seemed far more sophisticated. Kurt had realized that there was little chance of suppressing Miss Berry's girlish manners, but a stranger who observed how skillfully her face had been painted and how elegantly her dark hair had been arranged on top of her head might almost suspect that she was merely playing the ingénue.

Indeed, she might even be accused of overplaying the role with the awkward way she was attempting to cover her chest with her hand. "Miss Berry, stop clutching at your bosom," Kurt said sharply. "It looks ridiculous, and only draws more attention to it."

Miss Berry lowered her hand. "I am merely trying to avoid catching a chill," she said. "I feel it cannot be healthy to expose so much skin to the night air."

"I assure you, you are exposing no more skin than any other young lady here, and less than many," Kurt said. "If you are afraid of a chill then let us hasten inside." Each lady took hold of one of Kurt's arms and they joined the queue to enter the Upper Rooms.

Kurt was not displeased to note a few glances cast their way. He could not claim that their little party was the most attractive or the most richly dressed of those present, but they must be among the most striking. A dandy with two dark, mysterious ladies! How thrilling it was to stand out from the crowd and feel oneself the object of curiosity.

Once they had entered the building, they made their way to the octagon-shaped antechamber where they were to meet the rest of their party. It did not take long to spot Blaine chatting with Lady Susan and Miss Fabray. Kurt was surprised to see that Lord Dalton was with them as well.

"Who is that gentleman with Mr. Anderson?" whispered Miss Jones.

"He is so distinguished looking!" added Miss Berry.

"That is his father, the baron," Kurt replied. "Come, I will introduce you."

The next few minutes were devoted to greetings and introductions. Lord Dalton pronounced himself absolutely charmed to meet Miss Berry and Miss Jones, and actually seemed to mean it. He asked how they were enjoying Bath, which set Miss Berry off on what was sure to be a lengthy monologue encompassing everything she had seen and done since her arrival.

Blaine took advantage of this opportunity to draw Kurt aside. "My father insisted upon coming," he said in a low voice. "I hope you do not mind."

"Not at all. Is he fond of dancing?"

"He abhors it," Blaine said. "I think he wanted to see with his own eyes that I was really to spend the evening surrounded by young ladies."

"Young ladies, and me," Kurt said.

"And you," Blaine murmured, and squeezed Kurt's shoulder. Then in a louder voice he said "I am sure the ladies are eager to dance. Shall we go in?"

This suggestion was met with general agreement. Yet there is always some awkwardness in a party with an odd number of members, and time had to be taken to sort out how they ought to be divided. Though the similar dignity of their age and rank meant that Lord Dalton and Lady Susan were a natural pairing, among the younger people it was less clear who should be escorting whom. Miss Berry moved to take Kurt's arm, but Miss Fabray was quicker. She seized onto him with a surprisingly firm grip.

"You must not deprive me of my escort, Miss Berry." Though Miss Fabray spoke in a light tone, the gaze she directed towards Miss Berry was a cold one. "I would hardly feel right entering a ball with anyone other than my fiancé or his dear brother, and I am sure that Mr. Anderson does not wish to waste his first dance on a lady who is soon to be married – not when there are _single_ ladies in our party. You are _quite_ unattached, are you not, Miss Berry?"

There was nothing untrue, or even improper, about this speech. To an outsider it might have seemed most gracious for Miss Fabray to direct the attention of the most eligible bachelor in their party towards a lady who was not already promised to another. While Kurt knew it could make little difference to Blaine whether he danced with a woman who was single, engaged, or even married, Lord Dalton was probably quite pleased.

Miss Berry, however, looked as though she had been struck. "Oh! Well, to be sure..." was the only response she could manage. Miss Fabray's words had cut close to her heart, and Kurt could not doubt that this had been the intent. He was glad that he had powdered Miss Berry's face so carefully that evening, for it concealed the blush that was surely rising to her cheeks.

Then, in a gesture that, for quite different reasons, pleased nearly everyone in the party, Blaine made a gallant bow to Miss Berry. "I hope you will indeed honor me with the first dance, Miss Berry," he said. "And perhaps Miss Jones will grant me the second? I regret that I cannot duplicate myself and pay you both the full attention that you deserve, but I do at least have an arm for each of you."

The four ladies having now been divided amongst the three gentlemen in a satisfactory manner, their party proceeded into the ballroom.


	13. An Unexpected Reunion

**Author's Note:** First of all, a big thank you to my readers for their continuing patience and lovely reviews. We have finally come to the ball proper. I will be devoting two full chapters to it. I am sorry to keep dragging things out, but a lot will be happening and I didn't want to rush through it. A good chunk of the next chapter has already been written so I hope to be able to update again relatively soon. Some of you have asked about how long this story will be, and while I'm not sure of the ultimate wordcount my outline has this ball as the midpoint.

Today's history lesson is on Regency Era ballroom etiquette. Popular dance styles were shifting around this time, but I am assuming that balls at the Upper Rooms in Bath were fairly conservative (they had a strict and somewhat old-fashioned men's dress code, which will be discussed in this chapter – probably more boldly than would have been acceptable in mixed company, but I claim artistic license) and would still have centered on English country dances plus some French imports like the quadrille. None of these involved much physical contact; as 21st century Kurt would say, a touch of the fingertips was as sexy as it got. If you're curious to see examples of English country dancing there are plenty of clips on YouTube, including some nice ones from the 2010 Jane Austen Festival Ball at the Guildhall in Bath.

Country dances were performed in "sets" of two dances, which could last up to about half an hour. Ideally everyone at a ball was supposed to have the chance to dance if they liked, so switching partners between sets was encouraged. It was not considered proper for the same couple to dance more than two sets together in one evening unless they were engaged to be married, although Jane Austen herself violated this rule on at least one occasion.

A far worse breach of etiquette was being too picky about one's dance partner. (This was how Mr. Darcy made such a bad first impression in _Pride & Prejudice_!) If a gentleman found himself without a partner for the next set, he was supposed to look around for a lady in the same situation and ask her to dance. The lady was always free to say no, but it wasn't polite to do so if she was just hoping someone better would come along. The only good reasons for turning down an invitation to dance were that she had already promised that set to another gentleman or that she was tired and was not going to dance any more that evening.

A gentleman would not ask a lady to dance if they had not been introduced, but the Upper Rooms employed a Master of Ceremonies who kept track of names and could perform introductions between people with no mutual acquaintances. He would also keep an eye out for wallflowers and try to match them up, just as a host or hostess would do at a private party.

And now, on with the ball!

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><p>Upon entering the ballroom, Kurt was rather disappointed to see that it was only filled to about half its capacity. He had expected an enormous crowd, with dancers lined up as far as the eye could see. However, he soon realized that it was the vast size of the room that made the number of people gathered there seem small. At least a hundred dancers turned about on the dance floor, with perhaps twice that number seated on the benches that lined the walls. The assembly was far greater than could be contained in any venue in Lima, and if there were not enough people to fill the grand ballroom this at least meant it was easy for Kurt's party to find seats together. Lady Susan, Lord Dalton, Miss Fabray, and Kurt sat in a row, with Miss Berry, Blaine, and Miss Jones behind them.<p>

"I hope there will not be any waltzing," said Lady Susan, looking around sternly as though expecting that some couple might break into the offending dance at any moment. "I cannot abide waltzing."

"The Master of Ceremonies would never allow it," Lord Dalton assured her. "Things are done properly here. No faddish nonsense or indecency."

"I am glad to hear it. The last time I was in London, I was witness to the most appalling display of grasping hands and staring eyes. I do not know what Almack's has come to."

"Shocking," murmured Miss Fabray, though she did not appear to be paying much attention to the exchange between her godmother and Lord Dalton. She was occupied with rummaging in her reticule for something. Kurt was glad that no one was looking to him for comment, as he feared he was blushing. It was impossible not to think of his dream, and what it would be like to dance that way with Blaine.

"Such vulgarity is not tolerated in Lima," Lady Susan continued. Her tone of voice did much to help Kurt clear his mind of tender thoughts. "Our village has been cursed with a German singing master, a horrid little man with a deformed chin, but thus far I have managed to prevent him from corrupting our children with the disgusting dance of his people."

"Herr Schuster has never attempted to teach us the waltz," Kurt protested.

Lady Susan nodded. "He would not dare, not so long as I am there to stand against such things."

"Lima is fortunate to have you as a defender of decency," said Lord Dalton gravely. "Young people can so easily be led astray. They need a firm hand to keep them on the right path."

Kurt glanced back over his shoulder at Blaine, only to find that he was engaged in conversation with Miss Berry. Or rather, he was listening while Miss Berry spoke. "Miss Cohen-Chang and I had each wanted to sing 'Der Hölle Rache', and had Herr Schuster's decision been based on vocal ability alone I surely would have been..."

Neither noticed Kurt, though Miss Jones caught his eye and smiled. They had each heard Miss Berry's complaint about the Lima Music Society's spring recital dozens of times already. She was probably delighted to find someone who had not yet heard the tale.

The Master of Ceremonies soon called for the next dance, thus sparing Blaine the full account of the many indignities that Miss Berry had suffered as a soloist. Kurt led Miss Fabray out to the dance floor, with Blaine and Miss Berry following close behind. They each took their positions in the double line of dancers and the musicians struck up a merry tune. As the gentlemen bowed to the ladies, Kurt thought to himself that this was sure to be the beginning of a delightful evening.

The first set was all that he could have wished. He had as his partner a lovely woman who neither expected nor desired any flirtation with him, and by his side a most charming gentleman. While Miss Berry's presence was less than ideal, Kurt found her easy enough to ignore once she had to stop talking and concentrate on the figures of the dance. In truth he might have ignored her even had she decided to demonstrate her skill at performing the Queen of the Night aria, so interested was he in observing her partner. Of the two gentlemen Kurt considered himself the more graceful dancer, but Blaine's steps were quick and lively. When the dance called for them to spin and clap, he did so with great energy.

When he saw Kurt looking at him, he smiled.

When he smiled, it made the breath catch in Kurt's throat.

The set ended and the gentlemen escorted the ladies back to their seats. Miss Jones, who had spent the past half hour listening to Lord Dalton and Lady Susan discussing politics, was delighted to claim Blaine as her partner. Lord Dalton seemed pleased as well. Miss Fabray sat down and unfolded her fan, declaring herself too dizzy from the last dance to join the next. "I hope no one will ask me," she said. "It will be time for tea after this set, and I am sure I will be quite recovered after a bit of rest and refreshment."

Kurt had little choice but to stand up with Miss Berry. As they returned to the dance floor, he comforted himself with the knowledge that, while good manners obligated him to change partners between each set, he would be beside Blaine for the entire evening.

The slower pace of this set left greater opportunity to talk than had the last one. After the usual pleasantries had been exchanged, Blaine said "Let us speak of something very amusing. I expect Miss Jones is now an expert on my father's opinions of Liverpool and Grenville, but this cannot have provided her with much entertainment. Will you choose our topic, Miss Jones?"

"Oh, I would be happy to speak of anything that does not involve lords or ministers. Mr. Hummel should decide. He can make any topic amusing."

"Shall we discuss fashions in dress, then?" suggested Kurt. This and music were his two favorite subjects, and he was not eager to give Miss Berry another opportunity to hold forth on her accomplishments as a singer.

"Excellent," said Blaine. "I am curious to hear the ladies' views on the matter of breeches versus trousers. The regulations of the Upper Rooms provide us gentlemen with no choice in the matter. On ball nights it must be breeches, trousers and pantaloons are strictly forbidden."

"And no boots, either," Kurt sighed. He was an admirer of the Duke of Wellington for largely non-military reasons.

"Not unless you are an officer in uniform," Blaine said. "Like that gentleman, do you know him? He is speaking to Miss Fabray."

"Can it be Mr. Hudson-Hummel?" Miss Berry cried.

Kurt looked in the direction indicated and saw not Finley, but another familiar figure in a red coat. "Oh! It is Mr. Puckerman." Miss Fabray did not look pleased to see him. She had never been fond of Mr. Puckerman; Kurt had often heard her complain to Finley about his vulgar behavior. "He is in the same regiment as my brother," Kurt added for Blaine's benefit. "Finley must have told him we had come to Bath."

"Is your brother with him?" asked Miss Berry, craning her neck to see past the other dancers. "They are such great friends, they must have traveled together."

"We do not expect Finley until at least Wednesday," said Kurt. "That was what he said in his last letter."

"You must ask Mr. Puckerman as soon as the set is over."

"Oh, must I?"

"Are you not curious to know when your brother will arrive?"

"As I said, we will look for him on Wednesday."

Miss Berry allowed the matter to drop, though for the next figure she stamped her feet more firmly than was strictly necessary.

When there came another lull in the dance, Blaine reintroduced their earlier topic of conversation. "Ladies, Mr. Hummel and I still wait to hear your opinions on men's evening dress. Will trousers gain acceptance, or is it to be breeches forever?"

"Breeches are more traditional," Miss Berry began.

"So are powdered wigs," said Kurt.

"Please, allow me to finish. Breeches are traditional, but I am not offended by the newer styles. Still, in a setting where we ladies are expected to reveal our arms and necks, why should gentlemen not be expected to display their limbs as well?"

"Miss Berry makes an excellent point," Blaine said. "Do you have a rebuttal, Mr. Hummel?"

"A lady has many options when it comes to the color and design of her gown. A gentleman has no such freedom when it comes to this old-fashioned formal dress. If he does not appear to best advantage in white stockings and knee breeches, he must spend the evening looking ridiculous. I would much prefer to wear trousers, as I do at our private parties in Lima."

"Now I must consult my partner for her opinion. Miss Jones, how do you think a gentleman ought to be dressed for a ball? Do you admire the sight of Mr. Hummel's ankles, or do you think trousers are more flattering to his form?"

"Oh! I am sure I do not notice such things," Miss Jones said. "Mr. Hummel is always very elegantly dressed, so I trust that he knows best."

When the dance ended, Kurt, Blaine, Miss Berry, and Miss Jones rejoined the rest of their party and greeted Mr. Puckerman. Kurt performed the necessary introductions. "Mr. Anderson, this is my brother's good friend Mr. Noah Puckerman. Mr. Puckerman, this is Mr. Blaine Anderson. He has been introducing me to the attractions of Bath. I see you have met his father, Lord Dalton, already."

"We are fortunate to have another gentleman to round out our number," Blaine said as he shook Mr. Puckerman's hand. "You save me from having to escort two ladies to tea at once!"

"Two ladies? A delightful burden," said Mr. Puckerman with a rakish grin. "I am happy to assist you." He turned to address the ladies. "Which of you will give me the pleasure?"

Miss Fabray sniffed and took Kurt by the arm. Mr. Puckerman did not bat an eye. He offered his arm to Miss Berry, who apparently found him less offensive than did Miss Fabray. Blaine continued as Miss Jones's escort, and Lord Dalton naturally attended Lady Susan as their party made its way to the Tea Room.


	14. The End of the Ball

**Author's Note:** I must apologize to my readers again for the delay between updates. I have been very busy in real life, and the next couple of weeks are going to be even worse. It may be a while until the next chapter is ready.

This one, however, is finally done! It covers the second half of the ball. It turned out being longer than I expected, but as you'll see there's a lot going on – even more than Kurt realizes. There will be a cameo appearance by a character I know some of you have been hoping to see. This character is surprisingly difficult to write for and I don't think I necessarily did a great job, but it was fun and I hope you enjoy it.

There's a bit of _Emma_ in this chapter, but a stronger _Northanger Abbey_ influence. It occurred to me that if I were sticking even more closely to _Northanger Abbey_ then Puck would turn out to be Blaine's brother. That won't be happening in this story – 1818!Blaine's only brother really is dead – but I think a Puck/Blaine sibling fic could be interesting. Maybe one of you will write one!

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><p>"Might I say that is a lovely gown, Miss Berry?" Mr. Puckerman said, stirring sugar into his tea.<p>

Kurt was pleased by the compliment to his work, though not as pleased as he would have been had Miss Berry been seated somewhere else. He had hoped to have Blaine next to him at the table, but Miss Berry had managed to position herself between them.

"Thank you," said Miss Berry. "I thought I would try a new style for the ball."

Miss Fabray sniffed. "Hardly new, though it is certainly much more fashionable than the sort of thing you _usually_ wear."

"There is no need to be jealous, Miss Fabray," said Mr. Puckerman. "Your gown is charming as well. I did not mention it because I complimented you on it the last time you wore it."

"Ah yes, at my _engagement ball_." She placed a strange emphasis on the last two words.

"Indeed. Though perhaps you have had it altered since then." Mr. Puckerman stared at Miss Fabray's décolletage with a shocking lack of decorum. Kurt had also noticed that the bodice of Miss Fabray's blue gown clung more tightly than it had at her engagement ball, but she had after all come to Bath for her health. Lady Susan's regimen of mineral water three times a day must be doing wonders for her. Yet, regardless of the reason for her improved figure, a gentleman did not draw attention to such things.

"Nothing has changed since the last time we saw each other," Miss Fabray said coolly. "I merely had a large dinner this evening."

"I am pleased to hear you have a good appetite," Mr. Puckerman replied. "Mr. Hudson-Hummel mentioned that you had not been well."

"Where is Mr. Hudson-Hummel?" asked Miss Berry. "Did he not come down to Bath with you?"

"No, he is still with our regiment," said Mr. Puckerman. "I was able to take my leave early. He should be along in a couple of days."

"I am eager to meet him," Blaine said. "I feel I have heard so much about Mr. Hummel's brother."

"You will have the chance at my party, if not before," said Miss Berry. "I am planning a musical soirée for next week. You are all invited, of course."

"That sounds delightful. I would love to attend."

"I look forward to it as well," Kurt said. He knew from experience that Miss Berry's musical soirées were primarily an excuse to gather an audience for her singing, but a party was a party. It would also be an opportunity to spend an evening with Blaine. Kurt wanted to spend as much time with him as he could, while they were both still in Bath. The Hummels were set to return to Lima at the end of the month.

Looking around the table, Kurt felt almost as if he were back in Lima already. He was surrounded by old friends and neighbors, people he had known for years. Compared to them, Blaine was practically a stranger. Yet since their walk up to Beechen Cliff – had it been only the day before? – Kurt felt that Blaine knew him better than anyone else in the world. Even dear Miss Jones did not know, could never know, the secret they shared.

Miss Jones noticed Kurt looking at her and gave him a small smile. "Are you enjoying the ball?" he asked.

"Yes, it is lovely," she said. "It was kind of Mr. Anderson to dance with me."

Kurt had not forgotten his own promise to dance with Miss Jones, but it had not been foremost in his mind until that moment. "Would you like to dance the next set with me?"

Her smiled grew wider. "I would like nothing better."

"Are we choosing partners already?" asked Mr. Puckerman. "Then I must make my offer to Miss Fabray. Will you have me?"

"I am promised to another." Miss Fabray paused to cough delicately into her handkerchief. "Mr. Anderson invited me to dance the next set with him."

"Yes," Blaine said quickly. "I do apologize, Mr. Puckerman. This was before you joined us." Kurt knew that this was not true, but thought it very gentlemanly of Blaine to go along with Miss Fabray's fib. She clearly wanted nothing to do with Mr. Puckerman. Blaine's words earned him a smile from Miss Fabray as well as Lord Dalton, though not from Miss Berry. She brightened somewhat when Mr. Puckerman asked her to dance with him.

The pairings for the next set having thus been determined, the young people finished their tea and returned to the ballroom. Lady Susan, who had declared herself in need of better entertainment than watching a lot of stamping and twirling, went instead to the card room with Lord Dalton.

Kurt thoroughly enjoyed his two dances with Miss Jones. She danced well, and they had practiced their steps together so many times that it felt very natural to take her by the hand and turn about with her now. Yet at the same time it was exciting and different to dance with Miss Jones in such a grand ballroom, surrounded by such a large crowd.

Mr. Puckerman must have been impressed by Miss Jones's dancing, for he was quick to ask her to stand up with him for the next set. Miss Fabray announced that she was tired of dancing, and Miss Berry declared herself eager to dance all night. Kurt had hoped to have a moment to talk with Blaine before the dancing resumed, but they were only able to exchange glances and half-smiles before seeing to the ladies. Blaine invited Miss Berry to dance while Kurt stepped forward to escort Miss Fabray back to their seats.

"Would you like me to stay with you here?" Although Kurt wanted to continue dancing, he did not think it right to abandon his brother's fiancée. He was also reluctant to approach women he did not know. There was no easy way of determining which ones were hoping to find a partner for only the next dance and which ones were hoping to find a partner for the rest of their lives.

"It is kind of you to offer, but I mean only to sit here quietly," said Miss Fabray. "You need not deny yourself the pleasures of a ball on my account. Nor should I deny other ladies the pleasure of your company. I see many still waiting to find a partner."

Miss Fabray's encouragement and Kurt's desire to dance finally overcame his hesitation. He sought out the Master of Ceremonies and explained that, while he had no particular lady in mind, he hoped he might be paired with one who danced well. An introduction was quickly performed, and a moment later Kurt was leading a fair-haired, sprightly young lady out onto the floor.

He looked about for the rest of his party, and was disappointed to see that there was no room left near them. "Are you here with friends, Miss Pierce?" he asked. "We could try to join their set."

"No, I came with only my aunt. I could not persuade Miss Lopez, and Lord Tubbington was not feeling well."

"I am sorry to hear that," Kurt said politely.

"My aunt says it comes of too much rich food. He is particularly fond of cheese. I fear he is becoming gouty."

Kurt nodded. Many people came to Bath hoping that the waters would bring relief from that painful ailment. "Is Lord Tubbington your uncle?"

Miss Pierce appeared greatly puzzled by this simple question. "How could he be my uncle?"

"Well, is he married to your aunt?"

"Why should Lord Tubbington wish to marry my aunt? She has a husband already, and Lord Tubbington does not like to go to the church. The vicar is allergic to cats and sneezes whenever he comes near. It is very frightening for poor Lord Tubbington."

"Ah," said Kurt. The music still had not resumed, so he felt obligated to continue talking. "And Miss Lopez, is she a cat as well?"

"Of course not! Miss Lopez is my dearest friend. She is a very pretty girl with black hair. We do everything together. I wanted her to come to the ball tonight, but she would not get in the carriage. She ran back into the house. I am sure she is angry that I would not stay home. Usually we would spend the evening curled up before the fire. She loves to cuddle with me and lick my neck."

Kurt blinked at Miss Pierce, who seemed unaware that she had said anything at all peculiar. "Oh," he said at last. "I see. Miss Lopez is a _dog_."

"Is this a game?" Miss Pierce asked. "I like games."

Kurt was not sure what she meant, and probably would have asked had not the band began playing. He was relieved to have an excuse to stop talking to Miss Pierce, and she seemed happy to devote her attention to the dance. Fortunately, her ability in that area far exceeded her conversational skills. She stepped lightly and performed each of the figures with ease.

She spoke only once during the set, in the pause between the two dances. "I am trying to think what sort of animal you should be. It is most difficult." She tilted her head and gazed at Kurt silently until the music started up again.

When the set ended, Kurt was uncertain as to what he should do next. He could escort Miss Pierce back to her aunt, but they had no gentlemen with them. While Miss Pierce was lacking in wit, it seemed a shame that such a graceful dancer might have no partner for the final set of the evening. "Would you like for me to introduce you to my friends?" he asked. "There are two other gentlemen with me, and we have only two ladies in our party who care to dance."

"Mr. Hummel, you are a unicorn!" she cried. "I was just wishing that I might find another gentleman to dance with me tonight, and now my wish has come true. I thought at first you might be a dolphin, because of your voice, but you must be a unicorn if you can grant wishes."

Kurt forced himself to smile. He made a wish of his own, that Miss Pierce would not embarrass him in front of Blaine, and guided her over to his friends. Kurt performed the necessary introductions then left Miss Pierce to sit with the ladies while he spoke with the other gentlemen.

"I thought perhaps you could dance with her, Mr. Puckerman?" Kurt suggested. "I am afraid she is rather foolish, one of those ladies who believes her pets are a subject of great interest to everyone, but she does dance beautifully."

Mr. Puckerman looked over at Miss Pierce with an appreciative eye. "Tempting, very tempting, but I mean to dance with Miss Fabray."

"You will be disappointed then, for she has finished dancing for the night."

"Perhaps she has changed her mind. Women are always changing their minds about such things."

"If Mr. Puckerman does not care to dance with Miss Pierce, I will," said Blaine.

"Excellent," Kurt said. "I will ask Miss Jones. Mr. Puckerman, I hope you do not mind dancing with Miss Berry again, for I am certain Miss Fabray will refuse you."

Yet when they rejoined the ladies, they found Miss Berry had already attracted notice from another quarter. The Master of Ceremonies was introducing her to a gentleman by the name of St. James. He struck Kurt as having a rather haughty manner, but Miss Berry seemed well pleased with him. She accepted his invitation and followed him out onto the dance floor. Kurt and Blaine paired themselves with Miss Jones and Miss Pierce, leaving only Mr. Puckerman without a partner.

"Are you sure you will not dance, Miss Fabray?" Mr. Puckerman asked.

"You should ask some other lady," Miss Fabray said, fanning herself. "There must be many here who are not yet engaged."

"Miss Fabray is very tired," Kurt added.

"If she is too tired to dance then I will sit with her until the end of the ball," Mr. Puckerman said. "She should not be left alone."

Miss Fabray looked up at him for a moment, her lips pressed together. Then she folded her fan, slipped the strap around her wrist, and (to Kurt's great surprise) stood up. "If you are determined not to let me alone then I suppose we might as well dance."

"I am certain Mr. Puckerman would not have you do anything you do not wish to do," Kurt said, casting a sharp look at the other man.

"It is quite all right," Miss Fabray said. "It is only a dance. Is that not right, Mr. Puckerman? _Only_ a dance."

"As you say." He bowed and offered his arm to her. "Shall we?"

With that, the three couples made their way out onto the floor. The band struck up the next tune, and soon everyone was caught up in the dance and that strange mood of mixed joy and sorrow that comes at the end of every ball. It was joyful to be young, to be dancing, to be in the company of one's friends. It was sorrowful to know that it must all soon end, and that chances missed might never come again.

Miss Jones's smile indicated that she found this part of the evening more happy than sad. "Thank you for asking me to dance," she said.

"You need not thank me, it is my pleasure. There is no lady with whom I would rather close the ball."

"And there is no gentleman I would rather dance with than you."

"Oh, you would not prefer to be paired with Mr. Puckerman again?" Kurt said to tease her. "He is very handsome."

"Mr. Puckerman? I dare say many women would think so, but his are not the sort of looks I admire. I have never cared for dark-eyed men."

"Yet dark eyes can be very beautiful, on the right person."

Miss Jones did not respond to this, leaving a pause in which they were able to hear quite clearly what Miss Pierce was saying to Blaine. "Lord Tubbington would have liked to go to Cheddar, for he is fond of cheese, but instead we came to Bath. I never knew where bathwater came from before."

Kurt raised an eyebrow at Miss Jones, who had to bite her lip to keep from laughing. "Of course, beauty is not everything," Kurt continued. "An ideal dance partner is someone who can, at the appropriate times, move with grace and speak with wit."

The two friends finished out the set with as much grace and wit as Kurt could have desired. Once the last dance ended and everyone had applauded the musicians, their party regrouped so that they could all walk out together and bid each other a good night before departing in their separate conveyances.

After making his goodbyes to Lady Susan and Miss Fabray, Lord Dalton turned to Miss Berry and Miss Jones and bowed. "It was delightful to meet two such lovely young ladies," he said. "I am certain my son would be happy to assist Mr. Hummel in escorting you back to your carriage. Is that not right, Blaine?"

"Yes, sir. It would be my pleasure."

It did not take long for the two young men to find the Hummel family's carriage and hand Miss Berry and Miss Jones up. "I will be right back," Kurt said as the ladies settled themselves on the seats. "I just want to say good night to Mr. Anderson." He had been waiting all evening for a moment alone with Blaine.

It was only once he had turned away from the carriage that Kurt realized he did not know what to say to Blaine. He only wanted to talk to him. Or not even to talk, to just be near him. Yet speak he must, for Blaine was not likely to stand there long in silence with Lord Dalton waiting for him.

"Did you enjoy the ball?" Kurt asked, for he could think of nothing more clever.

"Yes, I did. Thank you for inviting me."

"Thank you for accompanying me." These pleasantries exhausted, Kurt wracked his brain for something more to say, something that would cause Blaine to linger just a little longer.

He was spared the indignity of having to remark upon the unseasonably warm weather, for Blaine spoke again. "Shall I call on you tomorrow?"

Kurt was glad that it was too dark for Blaine to see him blush. He opened his mouth to accept, then remembered why he could not. "I would like that very much, but I am afraid I have another engagement. I am to go with Miss Fabray to the dressmaker to arrange for her wedding clothes."

"A joyful errand. Well, if you are to be out shopping, perhaps you could meet me at Molland's afterward. Do you know the place?"

"On Milsom Street? Yes, I have been past it before."

"I often go there in the afternoon for coffee. You can look for me there at about three o'clock, if you like."

Kurt readily agreed to this plan. Blaine wished him a good night, and Kurt turned back to the carriage and climbed inside.

He found Miss Berry and Miss Jones discussing the ball, with Miss Berry as usual doing most of the discussing. "I was really very flattered. I did not expect at all to receive such attention. He seems a most charming gentleman. I only wish I could have danced with him again," Miss Berry said wistfully. She was evidently quite taken with Mr. St. James.

"I am sure you will have another chance," said Kurt. In truth he had no such certainty; he only wished that it might be so. Kurt knew little of Mr. St. James, but he must be a more suitable match for Miss Berry than Finley was. Practically anyone would be.

"Oh, I do hope so."

Miss Jones, who must have endured enough of Miss Berry's raptures over her handsome dancing partner, turned to Kurt. "Did you have a pleasant time at the ball, Mr. Hummel?"

"Very much so. The music was excellent."

"Miss Pierce seemed a nice sort of girl."

"Nice enough, I suppose."

"Not a very enthusiastic reply," interjected Miss Berry.

"We cannot all find love on the dance floor," Kurt said, more harshly than he intended. "Miss Pierce was a fine dancing partner, but my heart is not given so easily." He rapped on the wall to signal to the driver.

As the carriage began to roll away from the Upper Rooms, Kurt reflected on the peculiar nature of his own heart. It could never have been captured by Miss Pierce, not even if she were the wittiest and most beautiful lady in the world. This was not only because his heart was indifferent to the charms of the fair sex, though this was indeed so, but because it had already been captured by another. Kurt's heart belonged to Blaine Anderson, whether that gentleman knew it or not.


	15. Advice on Courtship

**Author's Note:** It turns out I was able to update sooner than I'd expected, as I'd already written a draft of the conversation between Kurt and Quinn that appears in this chapter. This was originally going to take place back in Chapter 11, but I decided it made more sense to have it after the ball.

Now for some historic notes. Princess Charlotte of Wales, who was mentioned briefly back in Chapter 3, was the only legitimate child of the Prince Regent. Her wedding in 1816 was highly publicized, and illustrations of the bride in her white and silver gown were widely available. Sadly, the princess died just a year later, soon after giving birth to a stillborn baby.

Thinking of wedding gowns, during the Regency any woman who could afford it would have a new dress made for her wedding. However, these were not wedding gowns in the modern sense of an elaborate white gown that is worn _only_ for the wedding. A newly married woman would continue to use the same dress she'd worn for her wedding for other formal occasions. The dress could be any color she liked. A lot of Regency wedding dresses were in fact white, but this was largely because white was a very popular color for formal dresses. Other colors came in and out of fashion until the Victorian Era, when young Queen Victoria's choice of a white wedding gown helped to make this the standard color for all brides.

The French novel referenced in this chapter is _Les Liaisons Dangereuses_ (_Dangerous Liaisons_) by Choderlos de Laclos. Although its content was considered scandalous, this book was widely read in both France and England. Some experts believe that Jane Austen not only read it, but used it as inspiration for her novella _Lady Susan_.

I had a question in the reviews a while back about inheritance, which I'll address here for the sake of anyone who wants even more background information. Anyone who doesn't should just skip ahead to the actual chapter below. :) The following is historically accurate to the best of my knowledge, but if I've made any mistakes then these are still the "rules" for my slightly AU setting.

The Hummel family estate is not entailed, so the current owner can leave it to whoever he likes in his will. It would be extremely unusual for Burton to leave the estate to anyone but Kurt, but he would have had the legal right to do so. Finley would not be considered next of kin for Burton or Kurt since he is not their blood relation. Burton has no legal obligation to support his stepson, and Finley could not inherit anything from the Hummel estate that was not explicitly left to him in a will. Being the decent man that he is, when Burton remarried he had a new will made leaving the Hummel estate to Kurt but also making provisions for Caroline and Finley. As mentioned in chapter one, Finley also has a cottage of his own because he inherited his parents' house when his father died.

Blaine's family has less freedom than the Hummels when it comes to inheritance, as a titled nobleman could not select his own heir. Lord Dalton could write a will leaving whatever money or property that he owned personally to anyone he liked, but the title "Baron of Dalton" and the accompanying estate would always pass from the current baron to his oldest son or whoever the next closest male-line relative was. If there were no male heir at all then the title would revert to the Crown.

In this chapter there will be reference to the fact that when a woman married her property automatically became her husband's. However, it was standard practice to have a contract made before the marriage that would guarantee the wife a certain amount of money. This "settlement" would be invested in bonds, and the wife could spend the interest without needing her husband's permission. She could leave the settlement to her children in her will independently of whatever happened to her husband's estate. Kurt inherited his mother's settlement when she died. That's how he can afford his expensive waistcoats!

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><p>"It is lovely, but I do not think the color appropriate for a winter wedding." Kurt handed the bolt of pink cloth to the linen-draper's assistant and turned back to Miss Fabray. "Are you certain you do not wish to wait until spring? The colors of that season suit your complexion well, and you could have flowers in your hair."<p>

"I do not need flowers. I will wear my new bonnet."

"Have you a new bonnet?"

"I mean to buy one, as soon as I know the color of my dress. Come, you promised to help me."

The assistant took this as an opportunity to offer his own opinion. "Yellow is very fashionable for wedding clothes."

"Yellow _was_ very fashionable for wedding clothes," Kurt sniffed. "No, for a winter wedding a lady with your coloring ought to wear either powder blue or white."

"You can never go wrong with white," the assistant interjected. "It is elegant in any season."

Kurt felt unreasonably annoyed that he could not object to this statement. "Quite so," he said grudgingly. "Though I believe Miss Fabray has been much complimented on her blue ballgown."

"I am tired of that gown," said Miss Fabray. "I would rather have white for my wedding. A white gown always looks so fresh and pure."

"Like Princess Charlotte," said the assistant. "You will look as beautiful as she did on her wedding day."

Miss Fabray shuddered. "Do not remind me of the poor princess. It cannot be lucky to speak of her."

They spent some time examining the white fabrics available. After rejecting several of the assistant's offerings, Miss Fabray declared a white eyelet muslin the very thing for her gown. Kurt had hoped to see her in silk, but with a white satin sash and fine lace at the sleeves and hem the muslin would be elegant enough to satisfy his expectations for the wedding.

After purchasing the material, Kurt and Miss Fabray proceeded to the shop of a highly regarded _modiste_. Selecting a design from the dressmaker's book proved even more difficult than choosing the fabric. Miss Fabray was fond of the current fashion for high waistlines while Kurt, ever attuned to the latest trends, wanted her to choose something more daring. "The high waist is quite _à la mode_ now, but in Paris the waistlines are already beginning to drop. Mark my words, in a year or two it will be the same here." Yet Miss Fabray was steadfast in her resolve to have her gown cut with as high a waist as possible, saying she could have new gowns made later if the style changed but that she would not risk looking ridiculous at her own wedding.

Kurt might have tried harder to persuade her had it not been past two o'clock already. He meant to be at Molland's at three to meet Blaine, and would not risk being late even to save Miss Fabray from a dress that would soon be outdated. In truth it would probably be good enough for Lima for many years to come; despite Kurt's best efforts, their village was not the fashion capital of Hampshire. Once he had given in on the question of the waistline, they were able to settle upon a charming design with a square neckline and short, full sleeves. The dressmaker took Miss Fabray's measurements and made an appointment for a fitting, and Kurt and Miss Fabray were soon on their way back to King's Circus.

This walk seemed as good an opportunity as any for Kurt to introduce a subject that had been weighing upon his mind. "May I ask your opinion, as a lady who is soon to be married?"

"You sly creature!" exclaimed Miss Fabray. "Are you planning to propose? Who is the lucky lady?"

"No, no, I do not have a particular lady in mind," Kurt said quickly. "But I have begun to think of courtship, and was wondering if you had any advice for a gentleman with no experience in that area."

"Well, the first step is to find a 'particular lady'. You cannot begin courting without someone to court, and it is cruel to toy with the emotions of a woman in whom you have no serious interest."

"I hope you do not suspect me of playing such games! I would never treat a lady so. Yet if I were to find one whom I admired above all others, how might I win her heart?"

Kurt did not ask how the heart of a gentleman might be won. He did not dare, and he doubted Miss Fabray's experience would be helpful to him anyway. A lovely girl from a prominent, wealthy family need not put much effort into attracting attention from men. Instead Kurt hoped that her perspective as one possessed of the dual blessings of beauty and privilege might be similar enough to Blaine's that he could learn from her how to capture that gentleman's interest.

"It is better to have a little uncertainty at the beginning than to declare your intentions too soon," said Miss Fabray. "The worst thing you could do would be to make her feel that she is being hounded."

"I thought that ladies enjoyed being pursued."

A frown creased Miss Fabray's brow. "We can be weak, vain creatures. We all wish to be admired, but no lady worthy of the name would wish to be pursued by a man in whom she had no serious interest."

"Might she not come to take an interest in him, in time?"

"She is more likely to refuse him altogether. If he is charming and persistent he might wear down her resolve, but to what end? Nine times out of ten such a man is a scoundrel." Miss Fabray, who had grown rather flushed during this speech, paused to fan herself.

"I hope I have not offended you," Kurt said. "Perhaps this is not a proper subject for us to discuss."

"It is quite all right," Miss Fabray replied. "I have strong opinions about marriage and I am not afraid to voice them. We will be brother and sister soon enough, so it is only fitting that you should come to me about such matters." She folded her fan and put it back in her reticule. "Now, as I was saying, it is better for a gentleman not to push forward too quickly. When you begin to court a lady you may compliment her appearance and accomplishments, but do not speak of love until she has had time to consider her own feelings towards you."

"How am I to cause those feelings to grow warmer? There must be more to it than paying compliments."

"In some cases it may be difficult, even impossible. If her heart has already been given elsewhere or her family does not approve of you, then you would do well to turn your attentions to another. However, a respectable young gentleman such as yourself should be welcome in most circles. Your situation is a good one. You will inherit a respectable estate. A lady need not fear that you are only interested in her money unless she is quite rich, nor that she has too little to merit your honorable regard unless she is terribly poor indeed."

Kurt was surprised to hear Miss Fabray speak more of money than of romance. "Are ladies really so concerned about such things?"

"Are gentlemen so naïve?" she replied with a wry smile. "We have no way of supporting ourselves other than by inheriting money or marrying into it. As we can have little control over the former, we must focus our energies on the latter. I am fortunate enough to have been born into comfortable circumstances, but others are not so lucky. Even a lady of means must be careful to avoid ruin through an unwise marriage. I will marry your good and honorable brother, but there are men who would have squandered my marriage portion on gambling while our children went hungry. A woman must consider such things before she marries. She will have little opportunity to change her situation later."

"That is prudent, but is there not more to love than practicing economy?"

"Of course, but there is more to marriage than love," said Miss Fabray. "The heart of an innocent girl might be won with sweet words and tender glances, but that is a fragile foundation for a life together. A woman needs her husband to be her companion and protector, even after her beauty fades."

"My father told me something similar, before we came to Bath."

"I am pleased to hear it, as there are few men I respect more than Mr. Hummel. He has been a second father to Finley, despite there being no ties of blood between them, and he has made Finley's dear mother so happy." Miss Fabray smiled wistfully. "If you wish to learn how to be the sort of husband who would make any woman proud, you would do well to model yourself on your own father."

Kurt left Miss Fabray feeling more confused than before. He had wanted advice about courtship, and she had spoken of marriage, money, and children. He wished he could dismiss this as irrelevant, but he could not. Courtship was not an end in itself. The goal was to establish a family. Even if Blaine came to love him, they could never marry. Kurt had of course known this all along, any child knew that a wedding required both a bride and a bridegroom, but he had avoided thinking about what it meant. Where marriage was impossible, there could be no future together.

The most Kurt could hope for was a brief _affair de coeur_. He could hardly expect Miss Fabray to advise him there. Not for the first time, Kurt wished he were French. Such things were done more openly on the Continent, or so he had gathered from novels. Sometimes the heart was scarcely involved at all. Miss Cohen-Chang had once managed to obtain a French novel so shocking that it had to be read by each of her friends in turn. While this had been educational in its way, Kurt had no inclination to emulate the wicked seducer Valmont. He would have been ill-suited to the role in any case. Valmont was a man of the world, and Kurt was as inexperienced as the convent girl heroine who they had all thought so stupid.

It occurred to him that he did have a friend who had seen more of life, who had experienced an affair, and who knew what it was like to be in love with another man. There was a painful irony in the fact that this friend was the last person Kurt could turn to for guidance: Blaine himself.

Though most of Miss Fabray's advice was of little use to him, Kurt agreed that it was wise not to declare his feelings too soon. He did not want Blaine to reject him before they had the chance to know each other better. Kurt turned his feet back towards Milsom Street, hoping that after an hour or two of coffee and conversation he would have a clearer understanding of where he stood in Blaine's affections.


	16. At Molland's

**Author's Note:** Here I am at last with an update. Thank you all for waiting so patiently! I suffered some major writer's block with this chapter and I'm afraid it shows, but I have a pretty good idea of what will be happening for the next few chapters so I hope it will be easier going.

Back in chapter two I mentioned that Kurt's father has been in poor health for some time. Since this is alluded to again in this chapter, I wanted to clarify that in this AU he's had serious health issues but that they are not as severe as on the show. 1818!Burt gets more exercise than his 21st century counterpart and has no access to Coke or Slim Jims, so he's stayed in much better shape...which is good, because the medical care available was nowhere near as good as it is today. Burton is the anti-Mr. Woodhouse with regard to his diet though, and has a hard time staying away from his favorite foods even though he knows they aren't good for him.

On a literary note, Kurt recites a passage from François de La Rochefoucauld's _Maxims_ in this chapter. Shelley referenced this same quote in _Prometheus Unbound_, which was written in the same year this story is set, so I assume La Rochefoucauld's work was fairly well known in England at this time. Francophile that he is, Kurt would have favored the original French over the English translation. Blaine's response quotes briefly from Shakespeare's _Twelfth Night_.

The conversation between Kurt and Blaine about the school colors for Cambridge (light blue), Oxford (dark blue), and the different colleges within Oxford is probably somewhat anachronistic. I have been unable to confirm that Oxford students wore scarves or other accessories in their college colors (or even had fixed college colors) prior to the 1830s. The practice seems to have originated with members and supporters of the rowing clubs, and these were just beginning to be organized at the time Blaine would have been studying there in the mid 1810s. But since the Corpus Christi College colors are red and blue I couldn't resist having Blaine show his school spirit through his choice of neckwear.

Incidentally, by the late 19th century Corpus Christi students wore blue jackets with red trim for the boat races. These boating blazers are still worn today, and except for the crest are quite similar to the Dalton Academy blazers seen on _Glee_. I wouldn't recommend them for Warbler cosplayers though, as they cost upwards of US $300!

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><p>Kurt entered Molland's to find Blaine already there, enjoying his coffee at one of the small tables near the window. As the shop was not busy, it took only a moment for Kurt to place his order at the counter before joining his friend.<p>

"Have you been waiting long?" Kurt asked. "I do apologize, Miss Fabray and I were longer at the dressmaker's than I had expected."

"It is quite all right, I arrived only a few minutes ago. How is Miss Fabray? I hope she did not overexert herself at the ball."

"She seemed well today. I suspect she was not as tired as she claimed last night, and that she simply did not care to dance. At least, not with Mr. Puckerman. It was good of you to pretend that you had already asked her."

"One so rarely has the opportunity to render assistance through dance," Blaine said. "While I have few useful skills, I am well able to play the hero in any crisis that requires singing, dancing, or translating from the Greek. I must confess though that I did wonder at Miss Fabray's behavior towards Mr. Puckerman."

"She has never cared for him. She complains of his manners, which I am afraid are rather crude, but he is such a close friend of Finley's that she cannot avoid his company."

"He seemed most solicitous about her health."

"He has doubtless heard all of Finley's concerns about Miss Fabray's illness. When Finley comes I am sure he will be relieved to see how much she has improved. A few weeks ago she was looking quite thin and pale. Bath seems to be agreeing with her, though really I think much of the problem was nerves. She did not wish to be separated from Finley so soon after their engagement."

"It is always painful to be away from the one you love," Blaine said.

Kurt would ordinarily have considered this statement a simple platitude. Coming from Blaine, it seemed far more significant. Blaine spoke from experience. Blaine had been in love once, and though this affair had somehow ended in tragedy he still knew far more of love than did Kurt. Before he could think better of it, Kurt blurted out "Is it not more painful to have no one to love at all?"

"No one to love, or no one to be loved by?"

Uncertain how he ought best to answer, Kurt fell back upon the wisdom of the French. "_Le plaisir de l'amour est d'aimer, et l'on est plus heureux par la passion que l'on a que par celle que l'on donne._" [The pleasure of love is in loving, and one is happier in the passion one feels than in that which one inspires.]

Blaine gave him an appraising look. "You have read La Rochefoucauld's _Maxims_. Do you share his views on love?"

"I hardly know. I have little experience from which to judge."

"Yet surely you can see that to have one's love returned is better than to love unrequited!"

This sudden vehemence surprised Kurt. Blaine was clearly not an admirer of the great French writer. Of course, many Englishmen felt little regard for the French, even those dead as long as the Duc de La Rochefoucauld. Kurt hoped he had not offended his friend. "I am sure you are right," he said. "Perhaps La Rochefoucauld did not refer to mutual affection. Perhaps he meant only that it is better to love unrequited than to be the object of undesired attention."

Blaine let out a long, slow breath and said "He was correct, then. To love quietly when there is no hope, 'like patience on a monument', can bring pain to none but the lover. There is nobility in that suffering, and a sweetness that might indeed allow one to smile at grief. Yet there can be nothing to admire in the lover who presses his suit where it is not wanted. He disgraces both himself and his beloved. Such behavior is pathetic at best, and more often shameful and offensive."

The arrival of the server with Kurt's order forced a pause in the conversation. This interruption came as a relief to Kurt, as it allowed him to busy himself with his coffee and pastry for a few moments without speaking. He feared he could say nothing truthful that did not reveal too much. Miss Fabray had warned him to guard his feelings, and if Kurt had held any doubts about the wisdom of her advice they were banished now. Blaine's opinions on the matter were much the same as Miss Fabray's. He had if anything expressed himself in harsher terms, with greater contempt for the unwanted lover. This seemed at odds with what Blaine had said when they first met, about Endymion's efforts to prove himself worthy of love, but Kurt would not question him on this. He would follow Miss Fabray's advice and speak no more of love.

Recollecting that Miss Fabray had also recommended compliments, Kurt cleared his throat and said "Have I mentioned that I like your cravat?" This remark produced a small smile from Blaine, so Kurt continued. "Unless I am mistaken, it is the same one you wore the day we met. I thought then that the colors suited you."

"They are my college colors, though I am glad to hear you think they look well on me. I should not like to be forced to choose between my vanity and my loyalty to Corpus Christi."

"Oh, you did not choose your college based upon its colors? I confess I would have been tempted to do so."

This silliness earned him another smile from Blaine. "What would it have been, then? Corpus red and blue? Jesus green?"

Kurt was not familiar with the colors of the various Oxford colleges, but he knew what he liked. "Is there one that has grey? Either that or blue, pale blue."

"I fear such a preference would have led you to Cambridge. No, Wadham uses light blue as well."

"Then that would have been my choice, had I gone to university."

"Why did you not?"

"I had no need of it. I am to inherit my father's estate, and could better learn how to manage it by staying at home with him." This was the reason Kurt had given his father, and it was indeed true. It was not, however, the whole truth. "Besides, he needs me to look after him. His health has been poor, and he does not like to admit it. Left to himself, he will eat too much rich food and overexert himself. I could never have forgiven myself if I had gone away and...something had happened."

Something had happened once, when Kurt was at the age when many boys began preparing for university. Though several years had passed, he did not think he would ever forget the harsh sound of his father's breathing or the peculiar clamminess of his skin. After the apothecary had done what he could, he offered his opinion that if Mr. Hummel made it through the night then there was a chance of recovery. Kurt had held vigil at his father's bedside, determined to be there to witness any change in his condition.

A change had come in the long, dark hours before dawn. Kurt sensed that his father was failing. His breath seemed to have grown more shallow, his pulse weaker. Kurt had clasped his father's hand, thinking of all the times Mr. Hummel had comforted him with such a gesture. He had always seemed so brave and strong. Kurt could not, _would_ not, imagine life without him.

"Papa, do you remember when I was a little boy and I had nightmares about dragons?" Kurt had whispered. "You told me not to be afraid, that if any dragon dared show its snout in Lima then you would fight it for me. Well, I need you to fight for me now. I know you can do it, Papa. Don't give up. Please. Don't leave me alone."

That was when Mr. Hummel's fingers had curled to press, weakly but unmistakably, against the back of his son's hand.

A gentle touch brought Kurt back from his memories. Blaine had reached across the table and covered Kurt's hand with his own. His eyes held a look of such tender concern that Kurt felt embarrassed. "I am sorry," he said. "I did not mean to burden you with my worries."

"No, I understand," Blaine said softly. His hand felt so warm. They had never touched like this before, without gloves. "My mother died when I was away at school. I have always wished that I had been with her at the end, to say goodbye."

"Was she very ill?"

"She died in childbirth. When I left for the Michaelmas term she told me that I would have a new brother or sister by Christmas, but she was brought to bed early and by the time I received word at Eton it was too late." He sighed and shook his head. "But this is not a cheerful topic. I see you have nearly finished your pastry. Would you like to share a treacle tart with me? I am sorely tempted to have one, but I do not think I could eat it all on my own." Kurt agreed, and Blaine went to the counter to make his purchase.

His absence gave Kurt a chance to collect himself. He had found the intimate manner in which Blaine had been clasping his hand to be most distracting. Kurt knew the gesture meant nothing more than friendship. They had removed their gloves only because they were taking refreshment together. He knew that it was wicked to dwell on matters of the flesh, and was ashamed by how easily his mind had been diverted from more serious matters by the sensation of Blaine's skin against his own. Yet he could not bring himself to regret it.

Kurt suddenly felt very tired. It had been a long day, and his mind was swimming with thoughts of love and loss, death and desire. He took a sip of coffee and looked out the window. A girl in a white dress was walking past, reminding him of Miss Fabray's wedding gown, and Princess Charlotte's wedding gown, and how many mothers had died in child-bed.

The cup clattered down into its saucer. In that moment it had all become clear, the solution to the mystery he had not even realized was a mystery until now.

Miss Fabray was with child.


	17. Realizations

**Author's Note:** Thank you all for sticking with this story, and I apologize again for not being able to update it more quickly. I get annoyed when I see my favorite WIPs _still_ haven't been updated, but I'm as guilty as anyone of taking my sweet time with new chapters.

I have no real historic notes for this chapter other than to say that while some of 1818!Kurt's reaction to Quinn's pregnancy may seem odd from a modern perspective, he is a 19th century man with a rather sheltered middle class upbringing. It probably would not have occurred to him that a healthy, unmarried girl from a respectable family would even _want_ to have sex.

Oh, the image I have created for this story may look pretty generic, but the background photo is from my trip to Bath. I originally wanted to use one I had of the Pulteney Bridge, but at thumbnail size it was difficult to make out what it even was. I went with the little white flowers instead, which were growing beside the path up to the top of Beechen Cliff.

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><p>Though Kurt had been astonished by his realization, he had little doubt that it was correct. He had attributed the oddities of Miss Fabray's recent behavior to her illness and the combined stress of being separated from her fiancé and sharing lodgings with her godmother. Breakfasting daily with Lady Susan would be enough to make anyone irritable. However, her distress at the mention of Princess Charlotte, her insistence upon having a less fashionable but more concealing waistline for her wedding gown, even her illness itself could be better explained if Miss Fabray were with child.<p>

So could her determination to marry that winter. Kurt, being both fond of his stepbrother and possessed of a romantic nature, had accepted that the power of Miss Fabray's love for Finley was such that she could not bear a long engagement. Yet this was at odds with the way she had spoken of marriage to Kurt, with so little sentimentality and so much concern for financial stability. From a fiscal standpoint it would be far more prudent for Miss Fabray and Finley to be wed in the spring, as originally planned. Finley's promotion would bring with it an increase in salary, but at his current rate of pay it would be difficult to set up a comfortable household together. Miss Fabray would have to spend the first months of her marriage practicing the strictest economy, and it seemed obvious now that she would not choose to do this lightly. Yet Kurt could well believe that she would sacrifice a little comfort in order to marry before her condition became known to the world.

It was of course hardly unheard of for a new bride to be brought to bed "early" of a healthy, well-grown babe. Were Miss Fabray and Finley's child to arrive six or seven months after their marriage it would certainly be an occasion for gossip, but it would not be a great scandal. For a young woman from a prominent family to be seen with a swollen belly long before her wedding day would be quite another story. Even were Miss Fabray willing to endure public shame, her father would not be. Kurt could be sure that Mr. Fabray was as yet unaware of his daughter's condition, as he had neither packed Miss Fabray off to a convent nor demanded satisfaction of Finley. Given the situation, it was surely best for all involved if the wedding took place before Mr. Fabray developed any suspicions.

By the time Blaine returned with the treacle tart, the only mystery remaining in Kurt's mind was how Miss Fabray's condition had come about. Or rather, why. The realities of country life combined with Miss Holiday's progressive views on education had given Kurt a sound technical understanding of how such things occurred, but he could not understand why Finley and Miss Fabray had not waited until they were married.

Something of his confusion must have shown on Kurt's face, for Blaine asked if he was feeling quite well.

"Oh! Yes, I am perfectly all right, it is only that I have just remembered I promised my stepmother that I would go to the shops for her while I was out today," Kurt said. "I must hurry or else everything will be closed."

The lie pained him, but Kurt needed time to think and felt it was better not to discuss this matter with Blaine. Though he trusted his friend's discretion, he could not expect that Blaine would have any greater insight into relationships between men and women than he possessed himself. He also feared damaging Blaine's opinion of Finley. The two had not yet even met. Blaine might assume that Finley was a cad who had bullied Miss Fabray until she gave in to him.

While Kurt could believe that Finley might have allowed himself to be guided more by desire than sense, his stepbrother was a good-hearted man. When she had discussed the topic of marriage with Kurt, Miss Fabray had made it plain that she would never have consented to wed a man who mistreated her. She had also spoken highly of Finley's goodness and honor. Yet her current condition could only be the result of such behavior as was generally considered both wicked and dishonorable.

Kurt, well aware that the inclinations of his own heart were generally considered not merely wicked and dishonorable but unnatural as well, was not disposed to think of Finley and Miss Fabray as sinners. However, they had acted most imprudently, particularly Miss Fabray. She had always been so proper. Kurt was surprised that she had not shown more concern for her own reputation. He would have taken more care had he been in her place.

His own behavior had always been above reproach. He had never done anything that would tarnish his father's good name. Kurt was not like that man, the man who had kissed him and had clearly wanted more than kisses from him. He was not a creature of uncontrolled passions. Excepting that kiss, which had been stolen from him, he had known no greater intimacy than Blaine's hand pressed against his own.

Pleasing as it was to reflect upon his own rectitude, Kurt was aware that his lack of experience in such matters was due as much to his limited opportunities as to his prudent nature. He had wanted very much for Blaine to kiss him, that day on Beechen Cliff...and not only that day. Yet this was no more than any courting couple might do without shame, as long as they were reasonably discreet about it. Not even Miss Fabray's father could be angry to learn that she and Finley had kissed, were kissing the extent of things. A man and woman could love openly, without fear, provided that until marriage they refrained from doing that which only married couples ought to do. They could walk hand in hand and be known as sweethearts, not merely friends. They could dance together at a public ball in sight of everyone. Surely it could not be so difficult to remain within the bounds of propriety when one had so much freedom.

Such were the thoughts that filled Kurt's head as he walked back to his lodgings. He devoted a full block to the unfairness of his own circumstances before turning his thoughts back to Miss Fabray. By the time he reached the river, he had decided that she was to be pitied. If her judgment had been poor, she was paying for it now in illness and worry. He could not envy her present situation. While a speedy marriage would cover the stain on her virtue, she would have to face both financial hardship and the dangers of childbirth. Kurt resolved to aid her in any way that he could. Miss Fabray was soon to be not only his sister, but the mother of his niece or nephew. She was entitled to whatever small comforts he could provide. Perhaps he could assist her in remaking some of her gowns.

As he dressed for dinner, Kurt amused himself by thinking of designs to flatter a lady whose figure was increasing with child. It was an interesting challenge. A shawl draped in the Indian style would conceal much, though it would seem an odd affectation were Miss Fabray to dress in this manner every day. Winter was coming, so she might wear a loose-skirted redingote over her gowns. Navy blue would be both elegant and slimming.

He set aside these thoughts when he sat down at the dinner table. The primary topic of discussion was Finley's imminent arrival. He was expected the next day, though rain had been predicted and that might delay his travels.

"He will be eager to see Miss Fabray again," said Mr. Hummel. "I expect he will press on even if it does rain."

"Oh, I hope not!" Mrs. Hummel exclaimed. "He ought to take shelter if the weather is bad."

"He's a healthy lad, a little rain will do him no harm. We'll dry him off and give him a good dinner and he'll be ready for anything."

"He will be pleased to find so many old friends here in Bath," said Mrs. Hummel. "How lucky that Miss Berry and Miss Jones were able to take a holiday here at the same time."

"And Mr. Puckerman," added Kurt.

"What, is he come to Bath too?"

"Yes, did I not tell you? We met him by chance at the ball. Miss Fabray was rather put out."

"Why was that?" asked Mrs. Hummel. "He's such a charming young man." Though his manners lacked refinement, Mr. Puckerman had always been most solicitous towards older ladies. He was considered something of a rough diamond by the matrons of Lima.

"Miss Fabray does not find him so," Kurt said. "I am afraid she was rather rude to him. Blaine – Mr. Anderson – remarked upon it when I saw him today."

Mr. Hummel shook his head. "She has no doubt been influenced by her father's opinions on Mr. Puckerman's people."

Kurt felt obligated to defend Miss Fabray. "Really I think she is offended more by his behavior than his religion. Mr. Puckerman's language is not always fit for a lady's ears, and she must worry that his love of drinking and gambling is a poor influence on Finley."

He did not mention the way Mr. Puckerman had been admiring Miss Fabray's figure, for it occurred to him that perhaps this had been motivated by something other than lasciviousness. Mr. Puckerman had said that Finley had told him of Miss Fabray's poor health. Her illness had not been severe enough to merit much concern from a mere acquaintance, but Mr. Puckerman had seemed quite pleased to hear that Miss Fabray had a good appetite and to see that her figure was increasing. His strange insistence upon dancing with Miss Fabray over her objections could be explained if he wished to speak to her in relative privacy without attracting attention from Lady Susan or her other friends.

All was clear to Kurt now. Finley had confided in his closest friend the reason for Miss Fabray's "stomach ailment". He must also have asked Mr. Puckerman to check on Miss Fabray for him as he was able to leave for Bath a few days before Finley. Miss Fabray had naturally been vexed to realize that a man she disliked was aware of her condition and had done her best to avoid him at the ball. She finally agreed to dance with him so that she could assure him that she was quite well and that she did not wish to speak of the matter any further with him. Mr. Puckerman had not lingered with their party once the last dance had ended.

Kurt wondered that his stepbrother had confessed his secret to Mr. Puckerman but not to Kurt, though perhaps he had not learned of Miss Fabray's condition until after he had left Lima. Miss Fabray herself might not have known then. Kurt knew she had been writing to Finley, so she must have given him the news that way.

Once he had the opportunity to speak to Finley alone, Kurt would explain that he was aware of the situation as well. Then Finley could let Miss Fabray know that there was no more need to conceal the truth from Kurt, and Kurt could begin designing her maternity wardrobe. Though Kurt understood why Miss Fabray had not been eager to reveal her condition, she could have saved herself some argument at the dressmaker's shop by letting him in on the secret. After all, he had deduced everything in the end.


	18. Three White Peaches

**Author's Note:** We not only reached but exceeded 100 reviews with the last chapter, which is amazing to me. When I started this story I expected it would be about as long as my previous story "Blame It On the Coffee", would take about as long to write, and would probably be less popular. I was completely wrong on all counts. "Glee and Glory" is already the longest thing I've ever written (not just my longest fanfic), and it's going to be quite a bit longer if I want to include everything I have planned.

This chapter features a scene that I've had in mind from very early on, so I hope you enjoy it even if it is two steps forward and one step back for our boys.

The only historic note I have is that Melozzo da Forli was a Renaissance painter who is probably best known for his depictions of angels playing musical instruments.

Were this story set in modern times, it would feature the song "Origin of Love" from the musical _Hedwig and the Angry Inch_. If you're familiar with the song you'll see why. If you don't know the song, you can find it on YouTube. :)

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><p>As Mr. Hummel had predicted, the rain did not delay Finley. He arrived in Bath in time for dinner on Wednesday evening, rather damp but none the worse for it. He kissed his mother, shook hands warmly with his stepfather and stepbrother, and declared himself hungry enough to eat an ox.<p>

Soon the family was gathered together around the same table for the first time in more than a month. Mrs. Hummel and Kurt had planned a fine homecoming meal including several of Finley's favorite dishes. There was also an endive salad Kurt had requested for the sake of his father, though Mr. Hummel was more interested in the buttered prawns. Kurt spent much of the meal endeavoring to keep his father's plate filled with the more healthful dishes and pushing the richer items towards his stepbrother.

Finley gladly consumed all that was placed before him. He listened as his family shared the news of Bath but had little to say himself until after he had finished a large portion of the trifle. "How is Miss Fabray?" he asked. "Has she been enjoying herself?"

"I think you will find her much improved in health," Kurt said. "She still suffers from some weakness, but she was able to dance at the public ball on Monday and seemed well when I saw her yesterday."

"Excellent, excellent. How was the ball? Did you meet any interesting ladies?"

"I did meet one lady, though I do not know that 'interesting' is the best word to describe her," said Kurt, thinking of the way Miss Pierce had rambled on about her pets. "She was quite a good dancer, though. For the most part I stayed with our party. We had more ladies than gentlemen until Mr. Puckerman joined us."

"What, Puck in Bath?" Finley exclaimed. Kurt nodded, and Finley burst out laughing. "That old devil! He told the captain his mother was ill!"

"You mean you did not know he was here?" Kurt asked.

"No idea at all! I suppose he thought it a good joke to surprise me. Won't it take the wind from his sails when I greet him ever so casually!" Finley laughed again and helped himself to another serving of pudding.

Kurt occasionally arranged private theatricals at Hartfield House, and knew from painful experience that his stepbrother was not much of an actor. Having seen Finley's wooden performance as Jack Absolute in The Rivals, Kurt could not believe him capable of feigning emotion so convincingly now. His surprise must be genuine, which meant that Finley had not asked Mr. Puckerman to come to Bath to check on Miss Fabray. This did leave Mr. Puckerman's presence unexplained, but perhaps it needed no explanation. He did have a notoriously impulsive nature and might have been carried to Bath by nothing more than caprice.

Disappointing though it was to have his elegant theory overturned, Kurt was pleased that Finley apparently had not confided in Mr. Puckerman after all. Miss Fabray would surely not want him to know of her condition, and in truth Kurt considered himself more worthy of being trusted with such a delicate secret. Indeed Finley had little choice but to trust him now, as Kurt had figured everything out on his own. Once Kurt had the chance to speak with him privately he would let him know that there was no need for secrecy between them. They could discuss the situation openly, brother to brother.

Later that evening, when everyone was preparing to retire, Kurt announced his intention to heat some milk and asked Finley if he cared for any. When they were at home he often brought warm milk to Finley at bedtime, particularly when he felt they needed to have a little chat. Finley accepted his offer, and a quarter of an hour later Kurt was carrying two steaming mugs up the stairs.

Finley took one of the mugs from Kurt, sipped the contents carefully, and said "Well, are you going to tell me what's troubling you?"

"It's a bit awkward," Kurt began. "I just wanted to say that Miss Fabray told me that she does not wish to wait until spring to be married, and that I know...I know why."

"She spoke to you about this?" Finley asked, raising his eyebrows.

"No, no," Kurt said quickly. "I realized it myself. I assume she wrote to tell you?"

"Yes, though I'll be damned if I can understand why it is so important to her!"

Kurt was much taken aback by this outburst. "I should have thought it would be important to you as well."

Finley shook his head. "As fond as I am of Christmas, I cannot see that it makes any difference whether we celebrate the holiday as a married couple or not. Surely it is better to wait until my promotion and have our first Christmas together next year."

After the briefest of pauses, Kurt said "Yes, but she is so eager to spend this Christmas with you."

"She must be, she wrote me two letters about it. Really she is being most unreasonable. She knows I cannot afford to set up a household for her before I make lieutenant."

"Well, women do have their funny little moods," Kurt said, forcing a laugh.

For the second time that evening, he reminded himself that Finley was no actor. Kurt could only conclude that, as incredible as it was, Finley did not know that Miss Fabray was carrying his child. Perhaps Finley had misunderstood her letters. She might have addressed the subject obliquely, fearful that her letters might fall into the wrong hands. Or perhaps she had not dared to even hint at the truth in writing and had decided to wait until she could speak to Finley in person.

Either way, Kurt did not feel that it was his place to enlighten Finley on this matter. How embarrassing to learn of such a thing secondhand! Surely Miss Fabray would explain all to him soon enough. She would need to if she was to persuade Finley to agree to a winter wedding. Kurt knew his stepbrother would do the honorable thing once he understood that this was no mere whim.

The next day Finley was eager to call upon Miss Fabray, and Kurt was almost as eager for him to do so. Kurt walked with his stepbrother to Lady Susan's lodgings in King's Circus and continued on alone to the Royal Crescent. He hoped that he would find Blaine at home. If not then he would look for his friend at Molland's, but he would prefer to see to Blaine without others around. They had not had much private time together since their visit to Beechen Cliff.

A servant admitted Kurt to No. 28 and ushered him into the study. Blaine entered a moment later, carrying a tray with a small basket on it.

"You are just in time for a treat," Blaine said. "Our housekeeper found these at the market for me. It is late in the year for them, but as it has been so warm this season there were still a few to be had." He set the tray down on the table and Kurt saw that the basket contained three peaches. "Fortunately there are enough for the both of us."

Blaine took one of the peaches from the basket and cut it in half. The flesh was not the golden yellow that Kurt had expected but a strange pale color, creamy white tinged with pink. "Oh dear, is it not ripe yet?" he asked.

His question produced a chuckle from Blaine. "Have you never seen a white peach before?"

"No," Kurt said, embarrassed by his mistake. He had _heard_ of white peaches but had assumed the name referred to the color of the skin, as with the different colors of apples, rather than the flesh. "Is the taste very different from other peaches?"

"Not so very different, but sweeter." Blaine began slicing the halves into smaller pieces. "They were a favorite of my mother's," he added softly. "She kept a little tree in our conservatory." He offered one of the slices to Kurt. "Here, try it for yourself and see if you like it."

Kurt took the slice and bit into it. The flesh seemed firmer than that of a yellow peach but the flavor was more delicate, sweet and mild with only the slightest tang. He finished the slice in two dainty bites and pronounced the fruit delicious.

He might willingly have said the same of even the sourest crabapple had he known that one of Blaine's lovely smiles would be his reward. Fortunately no such gastronomic sacrifice was necessary. Blaine divided the peach slices between them and Kurt ate his portion with genuine pleasure.

"Do you get many peaches from your tree at home?" Kurt asked once he had finished his last slice.

"We do not have it anymore."

Kurt felt foolish again, for he knew that peach trees did not live for many years. Blaine's mother had died when he was a boy; the tree that she had tended must be gone now. "Of course, I was not thinking—"

"He burned it the day after she was buried," Blaine said in a flat tone. "He did not like to be reminded of her."

"I am sorry." Kurt wanted to take Blaine's hand, as Blaine had taken his the other day, but his fingers were sticky with peach juice. It seemed wrong to comfort his friend with dirty hands.

"No, it is all right," said Blaine. "I should not have—I did not mean to speak of unpleasant matters. My father loved my mother very much. That is perhaps the kindest thing I can say of him." He took another peach from the basket and said "Did you ever read Plato, Kurt? _The Symposium_?"

This seemed a complete _non sequitur_ to Kurt, but he could not begrudge Blaine a change of subject. "No, I do not think so. I have not read much philosophy."

"There is a story in it that I find very beautiful, though it was taught to us as satire. It is attributed to Aristophanes, the comic playwright." He set the peach on the table and began rolling it back and forth, from one hand to the other. "He says that the first people had round bodies, like this, with four arms, four legs, and a face on each side. They could walk and run as we do, but rolled about when they wished to travel quickly. They were much stronger than we are today, with powerful hearts twice the size of ours." Blaine allowed the peach to roll to a stop. "They were so strong that they thought to attack the gods themselves, and began to climb up Mount Olympus. The gods decided they must be punished for their arrogance."

"Like the Tower of Babel," said Kurt.

"Yes, rather, though Zeus did not confound their language but attacked their bodies instead. He split them in half with his lightning bolts, just as we would split a fruit for eating." Blaine took up the knife again and sliced the peach in half. "So the mortals were left like this, in two pieces, with a great wound in the center. Apollo tied the wounds closed and turned our heads around so we could look down at the scars on our bellies and remember how we were once joined together, and what price we had paid for our rebellion."

Blaine removed the stone from the peach as he continued his story. "It was not only our bodies that were divided, but our hearts as well. There had been no loneliness before this time, nor any desire, for every man was whole in himself. Only after we were split apart did we seek to embrace one another, to press our scars together and try to make ourselves whole again." He picked up the two halves of the peach and touched them together. "In most cases this can bring only temporary bliss, but Aristophanes says that if a man can find his true other half they will feel such love for one another that they will never wish to be separated again. They complete each other. These lucky few know such peace and happiness as was enjoyed by all in the beginning, before we defied the gods."

Kurt, who had wished so long to find love, felt deeply moved by this story. "Do you think it is true?" he asked. "Do you think we each have another half?"

"Yes, I believe there is a soul-mate for everyone. I was not sure when I first learned this story, for we read it in translation at Eton. It was not until I could read the original Greek that I learned there was a part that had been left out."

"What was that?"

"Aristophanes says that there were originally three sexes: men, women, and androgynes who were male on one side and female on the other. When those of this third sex were split in two they became a man and a woman, with each desiring a partner of the opposite sex. The others, those who had been fully male or fully female, desired to be joined with their own sex. He says these men who love their own kind are considered shameless by some, but that in truth we are the bravest of men." He looked at Kurt, his eyes bright. "That was when I knew. I had thought that I was...broken. But it was all lies! There have always been men like me. We are not mistakes. We are not wicked or lustful, or at least no more so than other men. We just have hearts that were made to love men rather than women. And if there were others like me there must be someone for me, someone who could love me the way I loved him. I only had to find him."

Months, even years later Kurt would wonder what would have happened if he had forgotten about his sticky fingers and taken Blaine in his arms then and there. If he had pressed his lips against Blaine's, still sweet with peach juice, and kissed him. If he had confessed everything that was in his heart. Yet he could not forget what Blaine had said to him at Molland's. _There can be nothing to admire in the lover who presses his suit where it is not wanted. He disgraces both himself and his beloved._ He would not risk losing Blaine's friendship through a lack of restraint now.

Instead Kurt said "Did you find him, your other half?"

"I thought I had, once." Blaine sighed. "I do not know whether to hope that I was wrong and might still find my soul-mate, or to hope that I was right and that it was not all merely because of my own foolishness and vanity."

"What was he like?" Kurt asked, both wanting and not wanting to know about the other man. Blaine's lover. The one he had spoken of that day at Beechen Cliff.

"His name was Jeremiah, like the prophet, though he looked more like a Melozzo angel." Blaine smiled sadly, "He had the most beautiful golden curls."

Kurt was not sure what he had been hoping for, perhaps "He was much like you" or even "He was nowhere near as lovely as you", but he could not bear to listen to Blaine describe Jeremiah's beauty any further. He glanced at the clock and said "I do apologize, but I am afraid I have another call to make today. Thank you for sharing your peaches with me."

"Here, you must take the other one with you," Blaine said, pulling the remaining whole peach from the basket.

"Oh, I could not."

"Please, I will only make myself ill if I eat it myself, and my father would not like to see it here when he returns."

Kurt put up no further resistance, and additionally agreed to meet Blaine at Molland's the following afternoon. He then bid his friend farewell and set off towards Laura Place, the peach wrapped carefully in a handkerchief and tucked into the inner pocket of his jacket, near his heart.


	19. Queen of the Nile

**Author's Note:** This is another chapter I've had planned for a long time. Kurt is not on his best behavior here, which I'm sure some of you will like and some of you will not! If you fall into the latter category, my defense is that he does nothing worse here than he did in canon.

Kurt quotes briefly from Shakespeare's _Antony and Cleopatra_ ("Other women cloy...") in this chapter and also mentions "Tu la mia stella sei" from Handel's 1724 opera _Giulio Cesare_. You can find performances of this aria in both English and the original Italian on YouTube. _Giulio Cesare_ declined in popularity during the 19th century, but I think it would have been a natural choice for the Lima Music Society. It has a powerful and vocally challenging leading lady role as well as a leading man role written for a high (castrato) voice. Unlike _Antony and Cleopatra_, it also features a happy ending for Cleopatra.

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><p>Kurt felt guilty about not having called upon Miss Jones since the ball. He had been occupied with other things, but her lodgings were quite close to his own and he could easily have paid her a visit when going to or from his other appointments.<p>

He might have been more inclined to stop when passing by Laura Place had Miss Jones not been sharing lodgings with Miss Berry. While Miss Berry was not altogether intolerable as part of a group, there was always the chance that Miss Jones would be out. Kurt preferred to avoid _tête-à-têtes_ with Lima's worst dressed lady. He decided that if Miss Jones were not at home today he would simply leave a card and continue on to his own address.

This plan was foiled when Miss Berry herself answered the door. "Mr. Hummel, how lovely to see you!" Her warm greeting was undermined by the obvious way in which she peered past him before asking "Is your brother not with you? I hope the rain did not delay him."

"He arrived yesterday evening. He is with Miss Fabray now," Kurt said, then added "He said he would not allow a bit of weather to keep him from her another day." Finley had not in fact said this, but he was not a man given to romantic speeches. Had he been blessed with Kurt's eloquence this was doubtless what he _would_ have said, so Kurt felt no compunction about attributing these words to him.

"Oh! I see." The look on Miss Berry's face was proof enough that she had needed reminding that Finley was promised to another. She quickly regained control of her countenance and invited Kurt inside. "Will you join us for tea? Miss Jones should be back soon with the Bath buns. She has developed quite a passion for them."

"I have already eaten," Kurt said. "I am just come from Mr. Anderson's."

He was not to make his escape so easily. "Only a drink, then? We have quite a good pekoe." Miss Berry started up the stairs, and Kurt could think of no polite way to avoid following her. He was soon settled on a rather unfortunately upholstered chair while Miss Berry poured the tea.

"Is your uncle at home?" Kurt asked, hoping he might at least be spared the full force of Miss Berry's personality.

"No, he has gone to the baths."

"And Mr. LeRoy?"

"He went with Miss Jones to the bakery. She will be so pleased you stopped by. She was saying earlier that she hoped you would call. Did you find Mr. Anderson well?"

"Yes, quite well, though I did not stay long with him."

"I suppose you were lucky to see him at all," said Miss Berry. "He is a very busy gentleman, is he not?"

"No busier than most, I should think. Why do you ask?"

"I only wondered if he would be able to attend my party. My uncle took the invitations around earlier today, you ought to find yours waiting for you. Can I expect the pleasure of your family's company?"

Kurt suspected there was only one member of his family whose company would truly be a pleasure to Miss Berry. "I hope that we will be able to attend, though we shall have to see whether it conflicts with any previous engagements."

"Please do come if you are able. There is a charming duet I wish to sing, but I will need a baritone to accompany me."

Truly her lack of subtlety was rivaled only by her lack of tact. "I fear I can be of little assistance to you there," Kurt said.

Miss Berry did at least have the decency to look embarrassed. "I was speaking of your brother, though of course you will be quite welcome to sing as well. It is only that I do not often get to hear Mr. Hudson-Hummel. I do wish you would convince him to join the Music Society."

"Miss Fabray does not approve of such things. She thinks unmarried men and women ought not to socialize so freely."

"Surely there is nothing objectionable about singing!"

"I do not think so, but I am not the one who is marrying Miss Fabray. My brother respects her concern for propriety. Do you feel he is wrong to do so?"

"I am sure that nothing Mr. Hudson-Hummel does is wrong. I only think Miss Fabray ought to be more open-minded when it comes to such innocent amusements. Excessive concern for propriety leads to prudishness."

Little did she know how far from being a prude Miss Fabray was! The weight of so many secrets was beginning to wear on Kurt. He no longer had the energy to pretend that he did not know Miss Berry's, especially as she did so little to conceal it.

He set down his cup on the table. "Miss Berry, please forgive me for speaking so boldly," he began. "I cannot listen to you any longer without telling you that I am aware that you harbor a certain affection for my brother, one that goes beyond friendship. Is it not so?"

Miss Berry's eyes had grown round as saucers. "Yes," she whispered. "How did you know?"

"Intuition," he said dryly. "I do not wonder that you should feel regard for a handsome, good-natured gentleman, but surely you understand that he is engaged to Miss Fabray."

"Can engagements not be broken?" she cried.

"It is possible. That does not mean that it is right. Come Miss Berry, is there no other gentleman you feel worthy of your affections? I seem to recall hearing you speak fondly of a certain gentleman after the ball."

"Please do not tease me. I thought him very charming, but you must know he had no serious interest in me. It has been days since the ball and he has not come to call or even left his card."

Kurt inwardly cursed Mr. St. James. He might at least have sent his card around; surely the elegant ensemble Kurt had put together for Miss Berry merited that much. "Perhaps he did not wish to seem too ardent. A true gentleman is restrained in his behavior, no matter what his feelings may be."

"It hardly matters," she said. "I know my own heart, and I could never love any man as much as I love Mr. Hudson-Hummel."

This mawkish sentiment reminded Kurt for the second time that day of what Blaine had said on the subject of unwanted lovers. _Such behavior is pathetic at best, and more often shameful and offensive._ How right he had been. Kurt was glad he had exercised gentlemanly restraint himself, for he would rather have died than make himself as ridiculous as Miss Berry. Kurt could not even pity her. She was so foolish, so utterly lacking in taste or sense. Finley would never love her. The sooner Miss Berry realized this, the better for them all. Her pursuit of Finley could only embarrass him, shame her, and offend Miss Fabray.

Kurt had intended to assist Miss Fabray, and indeed he had promised to help her deal with Miss Berry even before he was aware of Miss Fabray's delicate condition. His subtler methods had failed. The time had come for the Malvolio scheme.

"If you love him, there is only one thing to be done about it," Kurt said.

"Do not tell me to forget him. I cannot." Miss Berry dabbed at her eyes with her handkerchief.

"I did not mean too. I intend to tell you how to win him, if that is truly what you want."

"Why would you do that?" she asked, her voice trembling.

"Miss Fabray is not the wife I would have chosen for my brother," Kurt said. This much was true. He would have preferred for Finley not to marry and for everything to stay as it was, though there could be no chance of that now. "She has not your open nature, nor your talent as a singer. I love to listen to you Miss Berry, but I cannot say that I love to look at you. If your appearance were more desirable, perhaps Finley would choose you instead of Miss Fabray."

"Do you really think so?"

"I happen to know that he has a weakness for women of a certain type." Kurt lowered his voice and said "Exotic temptresses."

"But Miss Fabray is so wholesome!" exclaimed Miss Berry.

"You should have no chance at all were she not," Kurt said. "Why should Finley turn to you if you cannot offer him something different?"

"My virtue, you mean."

"No," said Kurt. "I would never advise you so. You must inflame his desire, not sate it. Not until you have what you want. Think of Cleopatra. 'Other women cloy the appetites they feed, but she makes hungry where most she satisfies.'"

"I cannot be such a woman," Miss Berry protested. "It is not my nature."

"You cannot change your nature, but you can change your appearance. You can play a role. Indeed you have played this one before. I have not forgotten your performance of 'Tu la mia stella sei'. If you wish to win your Caesar then this is the only way. You must play Cleopatra again."

Miss Berry took a deep, quivering breath and said "Tell me what I must do."


	20. The Malvolio Scheme

**Author's Note:** I forgot to mention before that I've created a community called Time After Time: Glee Historic AU to bring together historic AUs in one place. I only have five stories in it right now (this one and four by other authors), so please contact me if you know of any others that should be added.

This chapter contains an important scene I've had in mind since the beginning, but I wound up having to write it out two different ways to see which one I liked best! After having read them both I feel this is the better version, so I hope you enjoy it. It's light on Klaine, but there will be more of that in the next chapter, I promise! As with last time events in this chapter are based heavily on season one of _Glee_, although things happen a bit differently in my 1818!Gleeverse than they did in canon.

The opera _Il Mondo della Luna_ (_The World of the Moon_) by Joseph Haydn is mentioned briefly here and will probably come up again. This is another somewhat obscure late 18th century opera that I chose because it fits in well with both this story (it's a romantic comedy about marrying for love) and the needs of the Lima Music Society (it has three good roles for young women, and one of the lead male roles, Ernesto, was written for a castrato). The aria featured in this chapter, "Se la mia stella", is sung by Ernesto's love interest Flaminia when he is assigned as her escort.

Also mentioned in this chapter is the _commedia dell'arte_ stock character Pierrot, who is of course the original "sad clown".

* * *

><p>The execution of the scheme was almost too easy. Whenever Miss Berry objected to one of his suggestions, Kurt reminded her that she had also been reluctant to take his advice before the ball. Despite her concerns about cosmetics and low-cut gowns, her appearance that evening had been admired by the gentlemen of their party and even Miss Fabray had said she looked more fashionable than usual. Miss Berry could not deny that Kurt was regarded as a man with excellent taste in ladies' fashion, nor did she doubt that he had discussed this favorite topic with his stepbrother. When Kurt assured her that he was familiar with Finley's preferences she accepted this as the truth, and indeed it was.<p>

What she did not suspect, and what Kurt certainly did not tell her, was that he was using his knowledge of Finley's tastes to guide Miss Berry towards a manner of dress and deportment that was in every way the opposite of what Finley admired: "Subtlety is lost on him. You need to adopt a dramatic appearance. Do not be afraid to be bold."

Arranging for Finley and Miss Berry to meet was simple enough. That evening Kurt showed Finley the invitation to Miss Berry's musical soirée. "We really ought to accept in person. You have not seen Miss Berry or Miss Jones since you arrived in Bath, and their lodgings are so near. Shall we go tomorrow?"

"Certainly, it will be good to see old friends. I hope they are having a pleasant holiday."

"Indeed they are, particularly Miss Berry," said Kurt. He could not resist priming Finley for her transformation. "Bath society has had quite an effect on her. I should hardly have recognized her at the ball, she looked so different from the plain country girl I knew."

"I never thought her as plain as you did," Finley said quietly.

"Well, I dare say no one would think her so now. She was much in demand as a partner at the ball. She must have danced every set."

"With friends, you mean."

"Some friends, yes. I danced a set with her, and Mr. Puckerman was very eager to dance with her as well. Her other partners were all more recent acquaintances. Let me see, there was Mr. Anderson of course, and a Mr. St. James...I cannot recall any other names. All charming gentlemen, I am sure. At least, Miss Berry seemed well pleased with them."

Having done his best to suggest, without actually speaking an untruth, that Miss Berry had become Bath's biggest flirt, Kurt bade his brother good night.

The final step in the scheme was to leave Miss Berry and Finley alone together. Miss Berry herself was a willing accomplice in this, suggesting a time when her guardians would be out. Kurt ushered Finley outside at the appointed hour and walked with him to Laura Place.

They were received by Miss Jones, who explained that Miss Berry was refreshing herself and would join them shortly. After a few moments of polite conversation, Kurt exclaimed "The sheet music! I promised Miss Berry that I would return it today."

"I am sure she would not mind if you brought it by tomorrow," Miss Jones said.

"No, I really ought to go back and fetch it. Would you care to walk with me?"

As Kurt expected, his friend readily accepted the invitation. Miss Jones put on her shawl and the two were soon out the door, leaving Finley to await Miss Berry's grand entrance.

"What was the music you borrowed from Miss Berry?" asked Miss Jones as she took Kurt's arm.

"The score to _Il Mondo Della Luna_. I wanted to copy out Ernesto's aria."

"I should have guessed, my most trusted escort," she said with a smile. They sang a bit of Flaminia's aria together, "_Se la mia stella si fa mia guida_" [If my star becomes my guide], and both laughed when an old man turned to look at them.

"He is wondering how two lunatics escaped into the street," Miss Jones said.

"No, he is wondering how two lunatics came to be so well dressed. I noticed you added some lace to your gown, it looks charming." They continued discussing such pleasant topics until they reached the Hummel family lodgings.

Kurt needed only a moment to collect the sheet music he had deliberately left behind. He rejoined Miss Jones and they turned back towards Laura Place. He hoped their walk would last long enough for Finley to be sufficiently repulsed by Miss Berry. Kurt wished he could be there to see her playing Malvolio when she expected to be Cleopatra, but reminded himself that this was not a jest planned for his own amusement. He was helping Miss Fabray and teaching Miss Berry a valuable lesson. Finley too might benefit from a clear demonstration of Miss Berry's unsuitability. He had seemed a bit more interested than he should have been in who Miss Berry had danced with at the ball.

"Shall we continue on to the bridge?" Kurt asked. A few additional minutes might be needed to truly destroy any feelings Finley might harbor for Miss Berry.

"Do you need to visit the shops?"

"No, I only wanted to walk a little longer. It is a pleasant day, do you not think?" Seeing Miss Jones glance up at the cloudy sky, he added "Pleasant for walking, I mean. One does not wish to become overheated. Of course, good company improves any walk, regardless of the weather."

Miss Jones laughed and said "You need not persuade me, Mr. Hummel! I do not mind extending our walk."

They soon reached the bridge. Miss Jones expressed a desire to stop and look in the window of a flower shop before they turned back to Laura Place. "I wish I had a conservatory," she said, smiling at the pink and white blossoms on display. "Then I should have flowers all the year round."

"A thing of beauty is a joy forever," Kurt murmured. He often thought of that line when he passed by the flower shop; it was the same one he had stopped at with a certain gentleman on the day they met. He had feared then that he might never see the charming Mr. Anderson again. Little had he known that less than a month later he and Blaine would be intimate friends, calling each other by their first names and sharing such secrets as Kurt could not have confessed even to Miss Jones.

"What do you mean?"

"It is only a bit of poetry, by a Mr. Keats," Kurt said. "Mr. Anderson lent the book to me. I was not sure what to make of it, but I thought that line was very good."

"You are a great lover of beauty," Miss Jones remarked.

"Isn't everyone? I know of no man who does not prefer beauty to ugliness."

"Yet many men are content with the ordinary, and do not trouble themselves about the appearance of their clothing or surroundings. My father is that way, and my brother as well. They wish only to be tidy and respectable-looking. They do not care about elegant colors and fabrics the way you do."

"I am sure they consider me a dreadful dandy," Kurt said. He did not wish Miss Jones to think that he looked down upon her family; her father was a surgeon-dentist and her brother was set to follow him in that trade. "My own father often says I concern myself overmuch with my dress."

"I have always admired the way you dress," said Miss Jones.

"And I you. That is why we are such good friends, we both have excellent taste." He smiled and offered her his arm. "Shall we go now? I am sure Miss Berry and my brother will be wondering what kept us."

Miss Jones placed her hand on Kurt's arm but made no move to leave. She looked up at him and said "I remember you once said that you wanted always to have a beautiful home. You said you hoped that your wife would be the sort of woman who cared about such things as well, that she would love beauty and music as much as you did."

Kurt felt the conversation was drifting towards uncharted waters. "Did I? I cannot—"

"Mr. Hummel, we have been friends for a long time," said Miss Jones.

"Indeed we have," Kurt agreed, relieved to be back in familiar territory. "Since we were children."

"Yet we are children no longer. Mr. Hummel, please forgive me my boldness in asking such a question, but I must know: what are your intentions towards me?"

"M-my dear Miss Jones," Kurt stammered, his face growing hot. He wondered if, just a few blocks away, Finley was feeling this same combination of embarrassment, pity, and shame. "I hardly know what to say. I—"

"I know that I am not the bride your family would have chosen for you," she said softly. "But if you care for me as I care for you, I think we could be happy together."

Kurt closed his eyes to block the sight of the sweet, hopeful expression on Miss Jones's face. How much easier everything would be if he could love her! She was right that the match would be seen as more to her advantage than his, but Kurt knew his father would have no objection to so good and honorable a woman as Miss Jones. She was right too that they could be happy together. He could imagine far worse fates than to have his dearest friend always at his side to comfort and cheer him. His family too would be pleased to see him married, to welcome Miss Jones to Hartfield House as a daughter and a sister. A pleasant, comfortable life could be his if he took Miss Jones by the hand and asked her to be his wife.

He might have done it, had he never come to Bath. Had he never met Blaine Anderson. Had he never found reason to hope that his fondest wish might come true, that he might love a man who loved him in return. Blaine did not love him, not yet, but as long as that possibility remained he could not pledge himself to another. Selfish as this was, Kurt thought it best for Miss Jones as well. If she married Kurt she would lose any chance of true happiness, of finding a husband who would love her as a man ought to love his wife.

Kurt opened his eyes. He owed Miss Jones that much, to look her in the eye as he rejected her. "I do care for you, very much," he said. "Your friendship has meant more to me than you know, and I hope you will not wish to end it when I say that I cannot marry you."

In the time it took him to speak these words he saw Miss Jones's expression change from one of hope to confusion to stunned disappointment. "Will you at least tell me why?" she asked.

He could not, but she was his friend and deserved as much of the truth as he could give her. "There is someone else."

"It is Miss Berry, isn't it?"

Kurt's mouth dropped open in astonishment. He had half expected her to assume, as his father had, that he had been pining for Miss Cohen-Chang. Miss Fabray's name would not have come as a surprise. Miss _Berry_, however, was hardly the sort of woman who could tempt him, even were he the sort of man who could be tempted by a woman. Yet if he could not reveal the truth, there was little point in substituting one lie for another. "Yes," he said. "For quite some time. I am sorry I did not tell you."

"No, I should have realized. She—she has such a lovely voice, and you took such an interest in how she would look for the ball." Miss Jones cast her eyes downward, and from the way her lips were trembling Kurt could see she was struggling not to cry.

"I am so sorry," he said. "I wish that it were not this way."

"So do I." She pulled out a handkerchief and wiped her eyes. "Please take me home."

They walked the short distance back to Laura Place in silence. As they approached Miss Jones's lodgings, they saw Finley emerge from the front door.

"Kurt! Miss Jones!" He dashed down the steps towards them. "I was just coming to look for you. Miss Berry is—I can hardly describe it."

"Has she been taken ill?" asked Miss Jones.

"No, but she is not herself. She asked me to go. Please attend to her, Miss Jones, I fear she may have suffered a fit of nerves."

"Oh, but her music—" Kurt began.

"Curse her music!" Miss Jones exclaimed, snatching it from his hand. She dashed up the stairs and into the townhouse, slamming the door behind her.

"I fear Miss Jones is rather upset with me right now," Kurt said in response to his stepbrother's quizzical look.

Finley sighed. "And Miss Berry with me." He turned and began to walk in the direction of their own lodgings.

Kurt hurried to catch up with him. "Do you think she will be all right?"

"I do not know." Finley shook his head and grimaced uncomfortably. "It was most extraordinary. She looked like...like a harlot playing Pierrot! I thought it was a joke, until she started crying."

"Women do have their strange moods," Kurt said.

"That is what you said about Miss Fabray."

"Are they not both women?"

"Yes," said Finley. "They are. Yet they are so different."

He did not seem inclined to say more. Kurt was content to let the subject drop. He was glad that the Malvolio scheme had been a success and that Finley now recognized the vast difference between Miss Fabray and Miss Berry. The former was far more suitable as a wife, even were she not already carrying Finley's child. Yet after his conversation with Miss Jones, Kurt could no longer find much amusement in the idea of Miss Berry, painted and preening, trying to play the temptress.

More than ever Kurt appreciated the wisdom of La Rochefoucauld's saying about love. It had brought him no joy to learn that he had inspired feelings greater than friendship in Miss Jones. He was neither vain enough to consider her admiration his due nor cruel enough to take pleasure in scorning her. Still, it had to be done, just as Miss Berry had to be forced to abandon her hopes about Finley. The ladies might enjoy the feeling of being in love, but Finley's obligations and Kurt's very nature prevented them from returning these feelings. It was better for Miss Berry and Miss Jones to be disappointed now so that they might welcome the attentions of other, more eligible gentlemen later.


	21. Playing Consequences

**Author's Note: **This chapter is another one I've had in mind from very early on, but that turned out to be surprisingly difficult to write. Sometimes I can picture the scene without being certain of the right words to make it all happen. I'm not sure I _did_ find all the right words, but I hope you will enjoy it all the same.

Information about life at Eton and Oxford during this period is taken mostly from Arthur Clutton-Brock's_ Eton_ (available free on Google Books) and James Bieri's _Percy Bysshe Shelley, A Biography: Youth's Unextinguished Fire, 1792-1816._ Shelley, who would have been about three years ahead of 1818!Blaine in school, was an atheist, a believer in free love, and by the standards of his time relatively open-minded about homosexuality. He thought it was unnatural, but in _A Discourse on the Manners of the Ancient Greeks Relative to the Subject of Love_ (written in 1818 but not published until long after his death) said that only cultural bias made gay sex seem any worse than "the usual intercourse endured by almost every youth of England with a diseased and insensible prostitute."

Bath's Sydney Gardens have been mentioned previously and come up again here. The gardens still exist today, but the hedge maze – called the Labyrinth – is gone. There was a Merlin's Swing (named after its inventor John Merlin) at the center of the maze. As no pictures of the Merlin's Swing exist today it's not clear exactly what it was, but it apparently lifted people up in the air as people on the swing could see down into the maze. Blaine also refers to the famous hedge maze at Hampton Court Palace. This royal palace is now a tourist attraction, but was not open to the public until 20 years after the time of this story.

"Consequences" and "hazard" were both games popular in the 18th and 19th centuries. Consequences is similar to Mad Libs. Players take turns filling in the blanks of a story, folding the paper over so the next player can't see what's already been written. Hazard is a dice game similar to craps.

* * *

><p>In the days that followed, Kurt found himself without many of his usual companions. Finley and Miss Fabray spent most of their time together, and Kurt deemed it best to leave Miss Berry and Miss Jones to commiserate with each other for the present. He would see them both soon enough, at Miss Berry's party. While this would no doubt be awkward, a more private meeting with either of the two ladies was sure to be even worse.<p>

Yet even without the company of these old friends, Kurt was not lonely. He had Blaine. They met each day to take coffee at Molland's and often followed this with a visit to the Pump Room to hear the band or a walk arm in arm down Milson Street to look in the shop windows. At these times Kurt felt himself truly on holiday. He had been in Bath for nearly a month, but some days it had seemed as though he had never left Lima. His social circle still consisted largely of the same familiar faces and his mind had been much occupied with their concerns. Despite the change in setting, his life still revolved around Lima people and Lima problems. Only when he was with Blaine did he feel part of a bigger, more exciting world.

Blaine was so different from the other men Kurt knew. He seemed to unite every quality Kurt admired while suffering from none of the flaws that commonly accompanied them. He was cultured without being pretentious, spirited without being vulgar, amiable without being insipid. If he possessed a fault – and Kurt was prepared to accept that even such a paragon as Blaine Anderson might possess a single fault – it was only that he suffered from occasional fits of melancholy. These moods were neither prolonged nor violent. The first Kurt had observed, that day on Beechen Cliff, was the most extreme. He had not seen Blaine reduced to tears since then. He had never even known him to lose countenance in public. It was only when they were alone together and could speak freely that Blaine's composure sometimes cracked.

One such incident occurred on an afternoon when the weather kept them indoors. The earlier part of the week had been cloudy but without rain, and not too cold provided one was properly dressed. As Kurt enjoyed wearing scarves, he considered it fine weather for walking. He had suggested that they might make a visit to Sydney Gardens. "I have not yet been in the Labyrinth."

"Do you wish to ride Mr. Merlin's swing?"

"I am more curious about the Labyrinth itself. I have never seen a hedge maze before." Realizing that this sounded unsophisticated, Kurt had added "I have read about them in books, of course. Have you seen many mazes?"

"We have one at home," Blaine had said. "My great-grandfather took a fancy to the one at Hampton Court Palace and decided he must have a maze at Dalton Abbey."

This casual remark reminded Kurt once again how different Blaine's family was from his own. Kurt doubted that any of his relations had ever been near Hampton Court Palace. "Then perhaps you will find it tedious to explore the Labyrinth," he had said. "We could do something else."

"No, I am fond of mazes," Blaine had said quickly. "When should I call for you?"

The following day dawned grey, and by the appointed hour the clouds had grown darker still. "I am afraid we may have to save the Labyrinth for another day," Blaine said when Kurt opened the door for him. "It is looking very bad out." A rumble of thunder underscored his point.

"We might attempt it," Kurt said, peering up at the sky. "I do have an umbrella."

"Nonsense," said Blaine. "You would catch your death, and then what would your family think of me? We'll see the maze another day." He placed his hand on Kurt's shoulder and turned him away from the door. "While I may lack the natural charm of a hedge, I am sure I can find some way to keep you amused."

Kurt could not help feeling flattered by Blaine's solicitous manner. He knew he must not allow his fancies to overrule his judgment, but it did seem that Blaine was growing increasingly attentive towards him.

"Shall we play consequences?" Kurt suggested. He hoped the game might perhaps provide him with some insight into Blaine's mind. His choice of words might betray some tender feeling. Several minutes of passing pen and paper back and forth resulted in the following:

The _dark-eyed _**Aristotle** met the _elegant_ **Sappho** in _the Palace of Versailles_. He said **"Poetry is a more philosophical, and a more excellent thing, than history."** She replied _"I hope I am not underdressed for the occasion_." In consequence, **they stayed up too late drinking wine, and were dreadfully ill the next morning**. The world said _"They look very fine together."_

"It is better with more players," Kurt said. "With only two, it seems too much like two stories that have become jumbled together."

"Will Miss Berry have games at her party?" asked Blaine. "We could play again then."

"Oh, do you mean to go?" Kurt had been dreading the event, but Blaine's presence would surely make it more tolerable.

"Yes, of course. I enjoy a musical party, and my father would hardly allow me to refuse such an invitation. He keeps saying what a fine opportunity it is for me to see young ladies demonstrate their accomplishments."

"Miss Berry would be happy to demonstrate her accomplishments until she collapsed from exhaustion. Do not expect much entertainment except the sound of her voice."

"Will she be the only performer?"

"She will doubtless be magnanimous enough to allow a few of her guests to sing, but I would not go to the trouble of preparing more than one piece."

"I will endeavor to restrain myself," Blaine said with a smile. He had such fine teeth. Kurt did not think he would ever tire of looking at them. "What will you sing?"

"She said she wished to feature selections from _Il Mondo della Luna_, so I have been practicing Ernesto's aria," Kurt said, then sighed. "I do not know that Miss Berry will wish for me to take part, though."

"Why is that?"

Kurt kept his explanation brief. Necessary though the Malvolio Scheme might have been, he could not expect Blaine to admire him for it. "She has been infatuated with my brother for some time, despite his engagement to Miss Fabray. She told me herself that she loved him and hoped to marry him. I felt obligated to discourage her, and I fear I was rather harsh." He sighed again. "That same day I learned that Miss Jones had hopes of me. I hardly knew what to tell her. We've known each other for so long. I had no notion that she thought of me as anything other than a friend."

"Friendships with women are often complicated," Blaine said. "Or so my brother used to say. I've spent little time in female company myself."

"I always found it easier than being friends with men. Women are more likely to share my interests. Even as a child I preferred girls' games. Perhaps it would have been different had I gone to school. I did not have much opportunity to play with other boys." Most Lima families with the means to do so sent their sons away to board. While Kurt had been happy to stay at home with his father, he had sometimes wondered what it would have been like to go to school. Perhaps he might have met some special friend there, a boy who was different from all the boys he knew in Lima.

When Blaine did not reply, Kurt asked "Did you have many friends at Eton?"

"A few." Blaine leaned back and pinched the bridge of his nose as if he had a headache. "It was...difficult for a boy like me. I was small for my age, and quick to anger or tears. The other boys said it was my Spanish blood. They liked to make me show my temper. They would taunt me, knock my books out of my hands, chant my name over and over again until I cried."

"Good God!" Kurt cried. "What did the masters do?"

Blaine shrugged. "Some of them were sympathetic, but outside lessons it was the senior boys who were meant to keep the younger ones in check. The headmaster would flog us for serious offenses, but baiting me was not considered serious."

"Could you not appeal to your father?" This was what Kurt would have done. His own father would never have allowed him to be so ill-treated.

"My father expected Eton to turn me into proper gentleman," Blaine said. "An _English_ gentleman. He was not much concerned with how this was achieved. In time I learned what I was meant to learn: to control my temper, conceal my emotions, endure pain, tolerate hypocrisy, and despise my own nature."

They looked at each other for a moment, both surprised by the bitterness of Blaine's words. Blaine was the first to look away. He ran a hand through his curls and added, in a tone of forced lightness, "I also became rather good at fencing."

"Oh Blaine," Kurt began, not knowing how to continue. "I...I did not know it was like that. I should not ask so many questions. Please forgive me."

"You do not need to apologize. It hardly matters to me now. By my second year at university much of Dr. Keate's hard work had been undone. I was transformed into the shameless libertine you know today." He shifted and stretched his arms. "Such are the dangers of too much education."

"Were there many men at Oxford who...who were like us?" How sweetly strange to say "like us", to speak it aloud and in the plural form! Despite the differences in their families and backgrounds, in this nameless way Kurt and Blaine were alike.

"Not so very many, but there were free-lovers and atheists enough and some felt my sins no worse than theirs. Then there were those who liked to play at decadence or who chose to indulge in such pleasures as were readily at hand, but I never saw myself as having much in common with them. They were not looking for love, only an easy release."

"Like that man," Kurt blurted out without thinking.

Blaine's eyebrows shot up. "What man?"

"No one. I do not know." Kurt looked down at his knees. He could feel his cheeks growing red. He had not meant to tell Blaine of this. He had not meant to ever tell anyone.

A hand came to rest gently on Kurt's shoulder. "Did he hurt you?"

"No. I ran away. I did not—I thought he meant to rob me."

"Wait, are you speaking of the night we attended the concert? Kurt, why did you not tell me?"

"I was frightened." Kurt swallowed, hoping to clear the lump in his throat. "I did not want you to think I was weak, or wicked, or that I had wanted him to k-kiss me."

"Is that what happened?"

Kurt nodded, not daring to speak. He knew now that Blaine would not be repulsed by the thought of one man kissing another, but he might still think that Kurt was foolish for allowing such a thing to happen or silly to be upset by it. A kiss might seem nothing to a man like Blaine. He had been to university, and to London, and had his own hedge maze, and had even – the thought was unwelcome but irresistible – had a lover. Such a man of the world might well laugh at the virgin blushes of his country friend.

Yet he did not. Instead he said only "It was not your fault."

Kurt fumbled for his handkerchief and blotted the tears that had been welling up in his eyes. "I do apologize," he said, his voice trembling. "I did not mean for you to have to comfort me."

"Then we are even, for I did not mean for you to have to comfort me either." Blaine patted Kurt on the shoulder, then stood up and said "Shall we play another game? If you have dice I will challenge you at hazard."


	22. A Proper Punch

**Author's Note:** I am posting this on the one year anniversary of this story. With this update this is now the longest thing I have ever written, and we still have a way to go before the end. Thank you to all my readers for sticking with me this long. Some of you are probably feeling like you've been waiting a whole year just for this update! I did not expect this to take so long, but, in addition to this past month being very busy for me, _Glee_ episode 4x04 made it hard for me to come back to this story. But my dear readers may rest assured that, as this is a story in the style of Jane Austen, no matter what may happen in canon there will be happy endings for everyone who deserves one…and perhaps even for some who don't!

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><p>Miss Berry's musical soirées had always been notable more for the number of songs performed than the number of guests in attendance. Most could have doubled as meetings of the Lima Music Society, as that club's members were the only friends Miss Berry could expect to appear. Much to Kurt's surprise, she proved to be a more popular hostess in Bath than she had ever been at home. Mr. Puckerman had certainly never been seen at any of her parties in Lima, but he was already chatting with Miss Jones by the fire when Kurt and his family arrived.<p>

"Oh, here are the Hummels!" Miss Berry cried when she saw them. Kurt had been worried that this first meeting since the Malvolio Scheme would be an awkward one, but Miss Berry greeted them each with a handshake and said only "How good of you all to come."

Mr. and Mrs. Hummel thanked her for inviting them and went to pay their respects to Miss Berry's guardians, leaving the three young people clustered together near the door. "You are looking well, Miss Berry," said Finley.

"It is good of you to say so."

It was, Kurt thought, kinder than it was true, for Miss Berry was wearing a singularly unattractive gown. It was a shade of pale emerald green that had been fashionable the previous spring but would not have flattered Miss Berry's complexion even then. The high neckline and long sleeves were completely unsuitable for evening, and the whole thing was trimmed with more lace than could ever have been in good taste. Kurt wished she had consulted him before selecting such an abomination, though he supposed he had only himself to blame if Miss Berry no longer trusted his advice.

"No, I mean it," Finley said. He ducked his head and scratched the back of his neck. "You look...well, like yourself again. I hope you are quite recovered?"

Miss Berry smiled up at him. "I am feeling much better, thank you."

To Kurt's relief, Mr. Puckerman joined them then, a half-empty glass of punch in his hand. "Hummel! Finn!" he exclaimed, slapping them each on the shoulder in greeting. "Is Miss Fabray not with you?"

"No, she is coming in Lady Susan's carriage," Finley said. "I expect they will arrive soon."

"I am glad to hear it. I was afraid she might be ill."

"No, she is doing very well these days. The waters here have been better than any medicine. She still tires easily, but her appetite has returned and her color is much improved. You may imagine how relieved I was to find her looking plump and pink and pretty as ever after she was ill for so long."

"She is a beautiful lady," said Mr. Puckerman.

"Would any of you gentlemen care for a drink?" Miss Berry interjected in a high, strained voice. "We have tea of course, and Cook made some lovely punch."

Mr. Puckerman drained his glass and said "I could certainly do with another. It does no good to let the old whistle grow too dry. No, please do not trouble yourself, Miss Berry. I will fetch my own." He bowed and headed for the punch bowl, followed by Finley.

Miss Berry watched them go. "You were wrong, you know," she said. "He likes the way I look. Not as Cleopatra, as myself."

"My brother is a kind man. That shade of green makes you look like a corpse."

"Why do you hate me, Mr. Hummel?" she asked softly.

"Why do you hate Miss Fabray?"

"I do not hate her."

"Yet you would have her left heartbroken and humiliated."

"She could find someone else."

"So might you. Indeed that is your only hope of happiness, for my brother will marry Miss Fabray whether you like it or not."

"Then I shall never be happy," Miss Berry said. "There can be no other man for me." She looked up at Kurt with her great, dark eyes, and he saw that they were brimming with tears.

He thought of Lord Byron's warning, "Oh! too convincing – dangerously dear – In woman's eye the unanswerable tear!", but could not help feeling some pity for her. Though she was inclined to be overly dramatic, Kurt believed that Miss Berry harbored a sincere regard for his stepbrother. There was not a man in Lima more handsome or amiable than Finley. Though it was strange to think of it now, Kurt himself had once felt affection for the dashing young soldier that was not strictly of a fraternal nature. His situation had been if anything even more hopeless than Miss Berry's, but that had not stopped his heart from pounding at the sight of that tall figure in the red jacket. Yet he knew this now to have been only a boyish infatuation. It seemed nothing compared to how he felt for Blaine.

"Of course there can be other men," Kurt said. "The world is full of men, Miss Berry, and many of them must be better suited to you than he is."

Miss Berry produced a lacy handkerchief and dried her eyes. "You are only saying that," she sniffed.

"It is the truth. My brother is a fine man, I would never say he was not, but is he capable of truly appreciating your accomplishments? Would you not prefer a husband who is more sophisticated? Who knows more about music? There are men like that, Miss Berry, men who would feel honored to receive your hand."

How Miss Berry would have replied to this pretty speech Kurt was never to know, for they were interrupted by a crash and a cry. Both spun around to see Miss Jones, her eyes wide, a broken teacup lying at her feet.

"Miss Jones! Are you all right?" Kurt asked.

"It slipped," Miss Jones said. She pressed a hand to her forehead. "I do not know what came over me."

"Here, take my arm."

"No! I am quite all right. I only need to sit down for a moment." She turned away from Kurt and seated herself in a nearby chair.

"Oh dear," said Miss Berry. "At least it was not the good china. I will ring for the maid. Do be careful not to trod on it, Mr. Hummel."

She bustled off, leaving Kurt with Miss Jones. Normally this would have been a welcome situation, but Kurt realized that he was the cause of Miss Jones's distress. He could not be certain how much of the conversation she had overheard, but it must have sounded to her as though he were on the verge of asking for Miss Berry's hand. He wished he could tell her the truth, that he had never loved Miss Berry and had no desire to marry her, but then Miss Jones would surely ask him why he had lied. He had no answer for that, or at least none that he dared give.

At loose ends and unable to think of any other way to comfort his friend, Kurt offered to bring Miss Jones a glass of punch. He joined Finley and Mr. Puckerman by the sideboard. Mr. Puckerman paused in his tippling of his second – or possibly his third – glass and said "I take it you are out of favor with the buxom Miss Jones."

"She does look upset," Finley said. "Did you say something to offend her?"

"I hope you were not telling my joke about the girl from Lombardy," Mr. Puckerman added. "It is one of my best."

"I would never repeat such a joke to a lady," Kurt replied. He would not have repeated it to a gentleman either, not least because he did not completely understand why it was supposed to be funny. Mr. Puckerman's sense of humor often puzzled him, but Kurt would have died rather than admit this. He busied himself with ladling out two glasses of punch and hoped he was not blushing. "Miss Jones felt faint and dropped her cup of tea. Naturally she is embarrassed to have caused a commotion, but it was an accident and Miss Berry did not seem much upset by it."

Finished with his task, Kurt took a sip from one of the glasses. To his surprise, the punch was strong enough to make his eyes water. Miss Berry normally served only the mildest beverages at her musical soirées, saying that too much alcohol burned the throat and dulled the hearing. Mr. Puckerman laughed at Kurt's expression. "That's a proper punch, aye? I do enjoy a rum punch, as long as there's plenty of rum." He took another pull of his drink. "Are Miss Berry's parties always so dull?"

"No, sometimes they are even worse." Kurt set his glass on the sideboard. "What you must understand is that these gatherings exist only to give our hostess an opportunity to sing before an audience. We may take refreshment and chat amongst ourselves like this until the other guests arrive, and then we will be expected to sit quietly and listen to her perform."

"Miss Berry is a fine singer," Finley said. "You must grant her that. I quite like to hear her, though I hope it will not be only those long Italian songs tonight. I prefer songs that are in English, so one can understand them."

Their petite hostess appeared at Finley's elbow as if summoned by the sound of her name. "I will be performing some pieces from _Il Mondo Della Luna_," Miss Berry said. "They were originally written in Italian, but I had planned to sing them in translation. Although Italian is a beautiful language, I quite agree that it is more enjoyable when one can comprehend the meaning of the lyrics." She smiled up at him, then turned to Kurt with a less sunny expression. "Miss Jones has been waiting for her drink. Here, I will bring it to her. Oh, did you pour one for me as well? That was good of you." Miss Berry took the glass Kurt had poured for himself, said "I hope the others will be here soon, I am sure everyone is eager for the entertainment to begin," and walked off before he could protest.

Mr. Puckerman laughed again. "Hard luck, Hummel. Still, there's plenty more where that came from."

"Perhaps later," Kurt said. In truth he did not much mind the loss of his glass of punch. He had always been sensitive to strong drink and did not wish to stumble or slur his words when he greeted Blaine. He doubted Finley could be looking forward to Miss Fabray's arrival any more eagerly than he was looking forward to the arrival of his own special friend. Fortunately, neither gentleman had long to wait. Mr. Puckerman had just finished re-telling his favorite story about how he had once boxed with a gendarme's horse when Lady Susan, Miss Fabray, Lord Dalton, and Blaine were ushered into the room.


	23. Miss Berry's Musical Soirée

**Author's Note:** This story attracted a lot of new readers recently, not because of anything I did but because reader **Camillo** created a lovely piece of fan art and posted it on her Tumblr. If you have not seen it already, it's the November 9 post on her Tumblr (**camillo1978** dot **tumblr** dot **com**). I am so happy about this, especially the care she took with their clothing. I am ridiculously pleased with Blaine's hat.

Since the last chapter only set the scene for Rachel's party, I locked myself in my apartment most of the weekend and forced myself to plow through this installment. This is my longest chapter to date, and a lot of things are going to happen! There will also be plenty of songs. Several are from Haydn's _Il Mondo della Luna_ (_The World of the Moon_). I am using Naomi Ornest's 1983 English translation. All other songs included in this chapter are selections from the CD _Jane Austen's Songbook_. This CD is comprised of modern recordings of songs that are not only from Jane Austen's time, but that were favorites of Jane Austen herself. They are all taken from a book of sheet music she copied out for her own use.

I have only a few brief historic notes for this chapter. The word "mestee" has fallen out of use in modern times, but it's equivalent to the French "_metis_" or Spanish "_mestizo_" and referred to people of mixed race. The Spanish East Indies were Spain's territories in the Pacific, and included the Philippine Islands. Lord Dalton's remark about the "queen of our hearts" is taken from the poem "The Progress of Beauty" by George Granville, Baron Lansdowne. Puck's nickname for himself is a reference to the classical hero Ulysses/Odysseus. "The Good Ship _Venus_" is a well-known and very dirty drinking song that probably originated later in the century. However, the real-life incident that may have inspired it, the mutiny on the convict brig _Venus_, occurred in 1806, so I consider it plausible enough for my purposes that some version of this song might have existed by 1818.

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><p>Eager though Miss Berry was to begin the evening's entertainment, some basic civilities had first to be observed. Lord Dalton had not yet met many of the guests. "My Lord," she began. "Please allow me to present—"<p>

"Dalton, this is Berry and LeRoy," said Lady Susan, taking over the introductions in her usual abrupt manner. "They are lawyers, but I suppose everyone has his faults."

"Quite pleased, I am sure," said Lord Dalton, shaking hands with each of Miss Berry's guardians. "Mr. Berry, you have a charming niece. I look forward to hearing her sing. Mr. LeRoy, is Miss Jones perhaps your kinswoman?"

"No, I have no relations in England," said Mr. LeRoy. "I was born in Grenada. My father was a Frenchman."

"You are a mestee then, like me," Blaine said suddenly.

"My son enjoys being thought exotic," said Lord Dalton. "My late wife was from the Spanish East Indies, and had she not been then he no doubt would have invented some suitably romantic background for her. A Sultan's daughter, perhaps."

"Is that the sort of woman you would prefer for yourself, Mr. Anderson?" asked Miss Fabray. "A dusky beauty, with her eyes lined in black?" Her words seemed innocent enough, but a glance at Miss Berry was enough to tell Kurt that they had struck just where Miss Fabray had intended them to.

"I am not so particular about women," said Blaine. Perhaps feeling this was not enough of an answer to satisfy either a lady's curiosity or her vanity, he added "Though I have always admired a fair complexion, such as yours, Miss Fabray."

_And such as mine?_ Kurt wondered. His heart beat more quickly at the thought. Kurt's skin was if anything lighter than Miss Fabray's, though this might mean he was too pale for Blaine's tastes. Blaine might not even have been speaking candidly; he might merely have been paying Miss Fabray a compliment. Still, how thrilling, almost painfully so, to think that Blaine might have looked at him and admired his appearance – not merely his clothing, but his person.

"Fair or dark, woman was created to be loved by man," said Lord Dalton. "Whatever her form, she is always queen of our hearts and charmer of our sight."

"Here, here!" cried Mr. Puckerman, lifting his glass.

"What an extraordinarily tedious conversation," said Lady Susan. "Did you wish to meet the Hummels or not, Dalton? Mr. Porcelain Hummel you know already. Here are his father and stepmother, Mr. and Mrs. Burton Hummel. Fine people, though rather common."

Kurt might have taken offense at this from anyone else, but from Lady Susan it amounted to high praise indeed. It was true enough that his family did not hold a noble title, and that his father and stepmother could not claim to be possessed of great wealth, sophistication, or power. Yet neither was there anything vulgar or pretentious about them. He had sometimes wished his family presented a more elegant appearance, but looking at his father in his old-fashioned knee breeches and his stepmother in her simple but tasteful blue gown, Kurt felt that anyone with sense could see that here was a respectable country gentleman and his wife.

"The one who looks like Dr. Frankenstein's monster stuffed into a uniform is my goddaughter's intended, Mr. Finley Hudson-Hummel," Lady Susan continued. "Not good enough for her of course, but no one is. She tells me she intends to make a gentleman out of him. I said there should be enough of him to make two gentlemen, should she need a spare."

Miss Fabray looked mortified by this remark, but Lord Dalton took it in good humor. He shook hands with everyone and said "How good to meet you all. Mr. Hudson-Hummel, congratulations on your engagement. Mr. and Mrs. Hummel, you must be very proud."

"We are," said Mr. Hummel. "Of both our boys."

"Mr. Anderson is a fine young man as well," said Mrs. Hummel. "We were so pleased that Kurt had found a friend in Bath."

"Surely no more pleased than I was to find that my son had fallen in with such a wholesome group of young people. He was at university until recently, and I fear too much time spent studying has had an ill effect on him. That is why I brought him to Bath, so that he might form acquaintances of a healthier sort and enjoy such pleasant amusements as the city has to offer."

"I hope you will both enjoy my niece's performance this evening," said Mr. Berry. "She is quite the little songbird, and though I cannot claim to be impartial I think her as fine a singer as any I have heard upon the stage."

"I am eager to hear her," Blaine said. Kurt could not decide whether Lord Dalton or Miss Berry looked more pleased by this remark.

"I will be ready to begin in a moment," said Miss Berry. "Uncle Berry, will you please see to it that all our guests have refreshments? I must warm up my voice." She took a delicate sip from the glass in her hand and said "We must remember to ask Cook for the recipe for this punch, I like it much better than what Mrs. Robinson makes for us at home. Come, Miss Jones, let us go prepare ourselves."

The two young ladies left the room, leaving the guests to mingle for a little while longer. As much as Kurt wished to speak to Blaine, he knew he ought to have a word with Miss Fabray first.

"How pretty your hair looks this evening, Miss Fabray!" he began, knowing this topic was certain to hold no interest for Finley. "I like very much what you have done with these pearls."

"You are too kind."

"Not at all. True elegance is so rare, it always deserves praise." From the corner of his eyes, Kurt saw Finley turn to attend to something Lord Dalton was saying. It was now safe to speak a bit more openly. "I see you do not have a drink yet. I would offer to bring you some punch, but I am afraid I cannot recommend it."

"Mr. Puckerman appears to be enjoying it." Mr. Puckerman was at that moment serving himself another glass, while Blaine waited to take his turn.

"He is a man who likes strong drink. I found it to be too potent for my tastes. Given your delicate health, I felt I ought to advise you to try the tea instead."

Miss Fabray raised her eyebrows. "It is good of you to be so concerned."

"I hope I do not overstep my bounds. I realize we are not yet brother and sister, but my family is such a small one that I cannot help taking an interest in the health of any new addition."

Miss Fabray inhaled sharply, and her face looked so pale that Kurt wondered if she was not after all as fair-complexioned as he was. Then she blinked, smiled, and said "Please do not worry on my account. I am doing much better these days. A cup of tea does sound lovely, though. If you will excuse me." She smiled again and brushed past him to join Lady Susan in taking tea.

Impressive as this performance of nonchalance was, Kurt had seen the fear in her eyes. He had not intended his words to carry a double meaning, but it was difficult to come so close to speaking the truth while pretending to be totally unaware of it. He hoped that he had not upset Miss Fabray too much. She must have spent weeks worrying that someone would guess her secret before she was safely married. He would have to reassure her that he was her ally in this matter. Not tonight, even if they could slip away to another room there was too much danger of being interrupted or overheard, but he would pay her a call soon.

"I can see you are thinking deep thoughts."

Kurt jumped, startled. He had not seen Blaine come up beside him. His friend laughed and patted him on the shoulder. "Steady now! I did not mean to surprise you. I only wondered what could be causing you to knit your brow so."

"I did not realize that I was. I hope I did not look too frightful."

"You looked very grave, but you have not the features to look frightful."

"Indeed?" Kurt was not certain whether Blaine's remark was meant as flattery or only teasing.

"They are too fine, too delicate. Come, give me your fiercest look." Kurt forced his face into a scowl, though it was not easy to do with Blaine gazing at him so intently.

His efforts were met with another laugh. "I take it you are not intimidated?" Kurt asked.

"Not in the least. You looked just like a kitten. A little white kitten."

This, Kurt felt, could not possibly be taken as a compliment. A girl might perhaps be pleased by such a comparison, but for a grown man to resemble a kitten was ridiculous. Though he liked to think of himself as having a refined appearance, Kurt had always feared he was too dainty, too much the porcelain figure, to ever be thought handsome. He wished he could make himself look like Finley, like Mr. Puckerman, a dashing solider who would be the envy of other men.

"There is that grave look again," said Blaine. "Are you unwell?"

"I am perfectly all right. I am only a bit nervous about singing this evening." Though he had invented this excuse on the spur of the moment, once he had said it he felt the truth of it. On two or three previous occasions Kurt and Blaine had amused themselves by playing popular songs on the piano in Kurt's lodgings, but Blaine had never heard him sing seriously.

Kurt considered his voice to be his greatest gift. His keen sense for fashion was a close second, but if dressing well were enough to win Blaine's heart then Kurt would already be victorious. Instead he feared himself no closer to this goal than he had been that day on Beechen Cliff. If Blaine heard him sing, not just any song but "Begli occhi vezzosi" ["Beautiful, charming eyes"], a song written for a voice such as Kurt's and full of tender hope and longing, perhaps he would finally begin to think of Kurt as more than a friend. And if his heart were totally unmoved by Kurt's performance, well, perhaps there was no hope for Kurt at all.

"I am sure you will be fine," Blaine said. "Do you need a drink? I was just about to refresh my glass."

"No, I do not care for anything now, thank you."

Blaine made his way to the punch bowl while Kurt took a seat beside his stepmother. His father was already seated on the other side of the couch. "You must shake me if I start to snore," Mr. Hummel said.

"Papa! You do not mean to sleep, do you?"

"I do not_ mean_ to, but your friends sometimes sing such long songs. I like a lively tune."

Mrs. Hummel hushed them both, for Miss Berry and Miss Jones had returned to the room. Miss Jones took her seat at the piano and Miss Berry positioned herself beside it. She dropped a curtsy to her guests and said "Thank you all so much for coming to my party. I have been looking forward to singing for you. I will begin this evening with 'William'."

"_Ye cliffs, I from your airy steep  
>Look down with hope and fear.<br>To gaze on this extensive deep  
>And watch if William's there.<br>Sad months are passed  
>While here I breathe<br>Love's soft and constant prayer.  
>Reclining o'er the waves beneath<br>I drop the tear of sad despair.  
>But see, a swelling sail in view!<br>Oh! My fond hopes arise!  
>'Tis he! I feel that love is true,<br>I trust my faithful eyes.  
>His promised signal from the mast,<br>My timid doubts destroy.  
>What was your pain, ye hours past,<br>To this dear hour of joy?_"

As they applauded this performance, Kurt thought how irritating it was that Miss Berry should be every bit as fine a singer as she thought herself to be. She had invested the rather trite lyrics of the song with first such longing and then such joy that he could not help being touched by it. He glanced towards Blaine, and the expression on his friend's face indicated that he felt much the same way. More surprising was the tender gleam in Lord Dalton's eye. Kurt remembered that the old gentleman had once been a Navy man, so perhaps it was no wonder that he should be touched by a song about a woman's faithful love for her sailor.

"Next Miss Jones and I will perform some selections from Haydn's _Il Mondo della Luna_. The first is Clarice's aria from Act One."

Kurt's eyebrows shot up at this announcement. Though he had never considered Miss Berry to be possessed of much sense, he was astonished that she could think the "Burning to be married" aria an appropriate choice to perform before Finley, Miss Fabray, and her own guardians.

"_I am burning to be married,  
>And I'll have my way I vow it,<br>But if you will not allow it,  
>Then I'll do it just the same.<em>"

The look Miss Berry directed at Miss Fabray was proof enough that she knew exactly what she was doing, and the fatal gaze Miss Fabray gave her in return showed that she had not missed her rival's meaning. Miss Berry smiled and continued.

"_You must seek me out a husband.  
>Find him quickly or I'll lose him.<br>Or still better, let me choose him.  
>Yes, let me choose him.<br>One to set my heart aflame.  
>One to thrill me,<br>One to set my heart aflame._"

The response to this performance was not as enthusiastic as it had been for the first song, as Miss Fabray did not applaud and struck Finley on the hand with her fan when he did. Miss Berry seemed not to mind. With flushed cheeks and a triumphant expression on her face, she made another curtsy and exchanged places with Miss Jones.

"I will be singing Lisette's aria, also from Act One," Miss Jones said. Kurt had only an instant to wonder why she had chosen to sing as the servant Lisette rather than as Clarice's sister Flaminia, the role she had always preferred in the past.

"_Other women such as I,  
>You may seek and never find.<br>No, other women such as I,  
>You'll never find.<em>"

She looked straight at Kurt as she sang this line, and he was struck with the unpleasant realization that Miss Berry was not the only one who had chosen her song to send a message. Miss Jones tossed her head and continued in her strong, brassy voice:

"_I am always pure and meek,  
>I am always good and kind.<br>You just ask anyone you meet._

'_Yes,' he'll tell you, 'She can't be beat.'  
>I'm angelic, I'm unique,<br>I am always good and kind.  
>You just ask anyone who knows,<em>

'_Yes,' he'll tell you, 'She's a rose.'  
>Ask someone who knows,<br>He'll tell you I'm a rose._"

Inwardly Kurt was cringing, but he managed to clap politely when Miss Jones had finished. He hoped that no one else had understood the significance of this performance. He risked a quick look around the room and did not catch anyone staring at him. Everyone seemed to be responding only to the performance itself. Mr. Puckerman was particularly fervent. "Now that's what I call singing!" he cried, and whistled through his teeth.

Miss Berry rose from the piano bench. "Miss Jones and I will now rest our voices for a moment. Would anyone else care to favor us with a tune? Miss Fabray, perhaps?" she asked pointedly. The gauntlet had been cast down. Having failed to lure Finley away with her 'exotic' looks, Miss Berry was now challenging Miss Fabray on her own territory.

"I did not prepare anything," Miss Fabray answered.

"Oh, there must be some little song you know by heart," said Miss Berry.

Kurt held his breath, his own embarrassment forgotten. This was better than any drama. He looked to Miss Fabray again, wondering what she would do. Her voice was pleasant enough, but she was no competition for Miss Berry when it came to music.

"Yes, Miss Fabray, I should love to hear you sing," added Mr. Puckerman.

"I think not," said Miss Fabray coldly. "It is one thing for unattached girls to show off their accomplishments, but I am engaged to be married. I am sure Mr. Hudson-Hummel would not wish me to make a spectacle of myself for the entertainment of others. Would you, darling?"

"Ah, no," Finley answered.

"Nor should I," said Lady Susan. "A solidly built girl might sing without injuring her health, but my goddaughter is such a delicate creature. I am sure it would not be good for her lungs."

"I cannot believe there is anything dangerous about singing indoors, in a well-heated room," said Miss Berry, but now she only sounded peevish.

"Certainly not too dangerous for the Great Pucklysses," declared Mr. Puckerman, rising from his seat. "If you are sure you do not care to, Miss Fabray?"

"I have given my answer. Do not think you will persuade me otherwise."

"Very well, then." Mr. Puckerman strode towards the front of the room. Kurt wondered what he intended to perform. He had heard Mr. Puckerman sing a number of times before, but never anything that was fit for the ears of ladies.

Mr. Puckerman bowed and said "Here is a song that I have often thought about. It is from the opera _Robin Hood_."

"_Her hair is like a golden clue,  
>Drawn from Minerva's loom.<br>Her lips, carnations dropping dew,  
>Her breath is a perfume.<br>Her brow is like the mountain snow,  
>Gilt by the morning beam.<br>Her cheeks like living roses glow,  
>Her eyes like azure stream.<br>Adieu, my friend, by one forgot,  
>And from thy mind defaced.<br>But may that happiness be thine,  
>Which I can never taste.<em>"

This pretty air was rewarded with applause from nearly everyone present, Mr. Hummel having fallen asleep. Kurt observed that while Miss Fabray did clap for Mr. Puckerman it was only a few times, and rather listlessly at that. He thought it a shame that she should take so much offense at Mr. Puckerman's request to hear her sing, but reminded himself that Miss Fabray must be having a very trying evening.

"I had no idea that Mr. Puckerman could sing so well," said Mrs. Hummel. "Did you, Kurt?"

"Oh, I have heard him sing a drinking song or two," Kurt said. He was relieved that his stepmother had been spared Mr. Puckerman's rendition of "The Good Ship _Venus_". He also found it pleasant, after Miss Berry and Miss Jones's performances, to hear a song that had no hidden meaning.

Miss Berry returned to the front of the room and said "I should like to sing for you now the duet from the final act of _Il Mondo della Luna_, but I will need a gentleman to assist me. Mr. Hudson-Hummel, would you care to join me?"

Kurt could only assume that Miss Berry's boldness was due to the quantity of punch she had consumed. In different circumstances he might almost admire her determination to make a final stand against Miss Fabray, despite the odds against her, but the stakes in this game were too high – much higher than Miss Berry knew. Kurt looked to Miss Fabray and saw her clutching Finley's hand, her lips pressed together in a firm line.

"It is kind of you to ask, Miss Berry—Ouch! But I am sure no one wishes to hear me sing," said Finley. "Perhaps Mr. Puckerman will oblige you."

"I can sing no more," Mr. Puckerman said. "My apologies, Miss Berry."

"Oh," said Miss Berry, her face burning red. "I see. Well, I can hardly sing a duet by myself." She laughed nervously, and Kurt feared she was on the verge of bursting into tears. In her last, desperate attempt to win Finley through the power of her voice, Miss Berry had humiliated herself more thoroughly than Kurt and Miss Fabray had with the Malvolio Scheme. He had wished to see her defeated, but not like this. Not in front of so many people.

Surely someone would help her. Perhaps Miss Jones would step in with another song. Perhaps Mr. Puckerman would take pity on her and agree to sing the duet. Perhaps her uncle would put a stop to everything and send her to bed.

Instead Miss Berry's salvation came from an entirely unexpected quarter.

"May I see the sheet music?" asked Blaine. He stood and walked towards Miss Berry, who was gaping at him rather foolishly. "I confess I do not know the piece," he continued. "But I can sight-sing if you do not mind a few shaky notes."

"I do not mind at all," she said softly, and handed him the score.

"_A gentle stream is flowing and winding through my spirit_," Blaine began, his voice hesitant at first but growing steadier with each line.

"_See how the stream is growing,  
>Drowning my lovesick heart.<br>See how the stream is growing,  
>Sweetly drowning my lovesick heart."<em>

Miss Berry joined in with Clarice's part:

"_An ardent flame is raging,  
>I feel it burn within me.<br>For there is no assuaging  
>The pain of Cupid's dart.<em>"

Blaine turned towards her and sang "_Oh, let me feel the burning!_"

"_Oh, let the stream receive me!_" answered Miss Berry.

Now their voices joined together at last, brilliant, strong, and full of youthful passion.

"_My darling, you must not leave me.  
>I'll die if we should part.<br>My darling, you must not leave me.  
>I'll die if we should part.<em>"

Their duet, awkward though its beginning had been, received the most enthusiastic ovation of the evening. Mr. Berry and Mr. LeRoy stood up to applaud their ward, and were soon followed by Lord Dalton. Mr. and Mrs. Hummel remained seated but joined in the applause. Mr. Puckerman cheered lustily. Miss Jones was beaming. Even Miss Fabray and Lady Susan clapped politely.

Only in Finley's confused expression did Kurt see a reflection of his own feelings. Kurt thought the duet had been well performed, he admired Blaine's chivalrous behavior, and he was glad that Miss Berry had not been allowed to disgrace herself as thoroughly as she might have done. But he did not care for the way she was looking at Blaine now, and liked even less the way Blaine was looking back at her.


	24. Gaudy Day

**Author's Note: **I don't know how much longer I'll be able to keep up this schedule of weekly updates, but I hope you're enjoying it while it lasts!

I know it's become something of a joke how slowly the Klaine romance is developing in this story, but this chapter does contain a significant step forward (even if it seems to Kurt like a step backward). There is still a while to go before our boys finally get together, which leads me to a question I've been meaning to ask you all. I've been juggling a few subplots in this story, some of which are crucial to the main plot but some of which are not. If this were a book that I was writing to completion before it was published then I'd probably include everything I have in my current outline, but this story is being posted in installments that are sometimes several weeks apart. Would my loyal and long suffering readers prefer it if I cut down on some of the subplots so there were fewer Klaine-light chapters, even if that meant that some things would be dropped and the whole story would be shorter? Let me know what you think.

The only historic note for this chapter is Lady Susan's use of the term "cicisbeo", a word I picked up from one of Stephanie Barron's Jane Austen mystery novels. A ciscisbeo was a gender-swapped version of a "mistress": a man who escorted a woman to public events and with whom she was usually having a more or less open affair. These arrangements were more common and more socially accepted on the Continent, and the word "cicisbeo" itself was borrowed from Italian. In his 1818 poem "Beppo", Byron wrote that the term "cicisbeo" had "grown vulgar and indecent" and that "'Cavalier Servente' [knightly servant] is the phrase/used in politest circles".

Speaking of Byron, this chapter includes the text of his 1814 poem "She Walks in Beauty", which was also set to music and published as a song. Some of you may remember this as the song performed by the madrigal choir back in _Glee _episode 3x08. I had intended from the beginning to feature "She Walks in Beauty" in the story, so I was quite surprised when that episode aired and I saw that canon had beaten me to it!

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><p>"Why must it be so sunny?" Blaine asked, turning his face away from the window. The two friends had met at Molland's as usual, though Blaine was still suffering the consequences of his overindulgence the evening before. "What is the point of living in England if the sky cannot be decently covered with clouds when one has a headache?"<p>

"You should have checked the forecast before you had so much punch," Kurt said.

"That stuff was strong enough to blind an ox. Miss Berry might have warned us. Still, it was a very pleasant evening once we got past all that awkwardness about who would and would not sing."

Kurt bit his lip and said nothing. He had not had any opportunity to sing at the party. After Blaine and Miss Berry finished their duet, Miss Fabray had suggested dancing. Kurt suspected this was less because she felt the urge to dance than because she wished to take Finley's arm and turn about with him before Miss Berry's eyes. Miss Berry did not appear to mind. She seemed perfectly happy to dance with Blaine. Kurt was not certain whether she even saw Finley dancing with Miss Fabray, so fixed were her eyes on her own partner.

Kurt had been well able to observe Blaine dancing with Miss Berry, then Miss Fabray, then Miss Berry again, for he did not dance with anyone that night himself. Even with the elders leaving the dancing to the younger people, there were still four gentlemen and only three ladies. Kurt doubted whether any of the three would welcome an invitation from him. He volunteered to play the piano for the first set, and, when no one offered to relieve him, continued playing. He might have sung, had he wished to, but no one was paying attention. Blaine certainly was not. He was dancing hand in hand with Miss Berry, talking with Miss Berry, laughing too loudly at something Miss Berry had said.

A woman's voice, flinty but with more than a hint of amusement, interrupted these thoughts. "Good afternoon Porcelain, young Byron."

The two young gentlemen greeted Lady Susan, for of course it was she. "I did not realize you frequented Molland's, my lady," said Kurt.

"Normally I do not," she replied. "Their coffee is not hot enough for my tastes, not hot enough by half. I prefer it piping hot, and sweet as honey." As she was speaking, Lady Susan removed the lid from the sugar bowl on their table and began spooning it into her cup. Kurt saw Blaine's eyes grow wide as she added three, four, five spoons of sugar to her cup and kept going. "But I was passing by on my way back from the Pump Room and decided to stop in for some fruit tarts. Miss Fabray mentioned this morning that she had a craving for them. So I'll be forcing down this bitter, tepid brew while they wrap my order." She took a sip from her cup, which must have contained nearly as much sugar as coffee, and wrinkled her nose. "Barely tolerable," she declared.

"Will you join us?" Kurt asked politely, though hoping she would refuse.

"No Mr. Porcelain, I do not wish to look as though I have taken you two as my cicisbeos. Were I inclined to have a _cavalier servente_, I would find someone taller." She dropped the lid back on the sugar bowl; the sound made Blaine flinch. "Good day to you both." Lady Susan turned away and took a seat at an empty table.

"What an extraordinary woman," said Blaine, rubbing his temples. "Why did she call me young Byron?"

"On account of your hair, I imagine," Kurt replied. "Or perhaps because of your song last night."

After the dancing had finished, Blaine had said "Shall we have one more song before we take our leave? I wish to play something in honor of our charming hostess, who has provided us all with such an amusing evening." Blaine made his way to the piano on unsteady feet and Kurt surrendered the bench to him. Everyone gathered around, Miss Berry looking as pleased as a child with a new doll. "This is from Byron's _Hebrew Melodies_," Blaine announced, and began to play.

"_She walks in beauty, like the night  
>Of cloudless climes and starry skies;<br>And all that's best of dark and bright  
>Meet in her aspect and her eyes:<br>Thus mellow'd to that tender light  
>Which heaven to gaudy day denies.<em>

_One shade the more, one ray the less,_  
><em>Had half impaired the nameless grace<em>  
><em>Which waves in every raven tress,<em>  
><em>Or softly lightens o'er her face;<em>  
><em>Where thoughts serenely sweet express<em>  
><em>How pure, how dear their dwelling-place.<em>

_And on that cheek, and o'er that brow,_  
><em>So soft, so calm, yet eloquent,<em>  
><em>The smiles that win, the tints that glow,<em>  
><em>But tell of days in goodness spent,<em>  
><em>A mind at peace with all below,<em>  
><em>A heart whose love is innocent!<em>"

It had been, for Kurt, the most awkward moment of a thoroughly uncomfortable evening.

"Oh, that," said Blaine. "I can barely remember it. I hope I did not disgrace myself too badly. I am sure that punch did nothing for my voice."

"You sounded very well," Kurt said. "But it was a bit much, do you not think?"

"What do you mean?"

"Singing such a song to Miss Berry, and in front of her guardians no less."

Blaine shrugged. "I do not think they minded. Her uncle sent round a note today asking me to join them at the theater this evening."

"Surely you refused."

"Why should I refuse? I am quite fond of the theater."

Kurt was surprised by Blaine's naïveté. He would have expected his friend to know more of the world than this. Perhaps Lord Dalton was right about Blaine having been at school too long. "I understand that you wished to spare Miss Berry from embarrassment last night, and I admire you for it," Kurt said. "But serenading her with love songs and accompanying her to the theater is only going to give her the wrong idea about your intentions."

"Perhaps it would not be the wrong idea at all," Blaine said with a faint smile.

"That is not funny, Blaine," said Kurt. "You will turn her head easily enough, but it is a cruel game to play when you do not love her."

"I cannot expect to marry for love."

Kurt could feel his temper rising. "So you intend to marry for convenience?"

"I do not mean to ask for her hand tonight, if that is what you are concerned about," said Blaine. "It is only a trip to the theater." He paused to take a sip of coffee. "Still, she seems pleasant enough, and a very fine singer. I could certainly do worse. You should meet some of the girls my aunt has paraded before me. She hopes to breed me like one of her pugs. I'd much rather be wed someone like Miss Berry than a silly heiress with the voice of a magpie!"

"How can you say such things? You who have spoken so often of love, of searching for your other half! Is Miss Berry to abandon all hope of finding her own soul-mate so that she may be your wife of convenience?"

"Why are you so angry?" Blaine asked. "Miss Berry is a grown woman. She is not your sister or any kinswoman of yours. What do you care who she marries, or whether it is for love or not?"

Kurt _was_ angry, angry at Blaine for his hypocrisy, angry at Miss Berry for being Miss Berry, and above all angry at himself for his own meddling and cowardice. If he had not schemed to turn Miss Berry's affections away from Finley, her heart would not now be vulnerable to Blaine's many charms. Little more than a month before Kurt's life had seemed so simple, but since coming to Bath it had turned into a tangled web of secrets and lies. He was tired of hiding things, tired of deceiving the people he cared about most. It all made him so angry that he forgot about Miss Fabray's advice and did what he had not dared to do in weeks of frustrated longing. He told the truth.

"Blaine," he said. "After all the time we have spent together, can you truly be unaware of my feelings?"

Blaine's dark eyebrows lifted in surprise. "What, for Miss Berry?"

"Yes, for Miss Berry," Kurt snapped. "Of course I am speaking of Miss Berry. It is she who has captured my heart. How clever of you to have figured it out!" He slumped back in his chair and folded his arms across his chest. If Blaine still did not understand his meaning then there was nothing more Kurt could say, not in public.

It took a few seconds, but the expression on Blaine's face changed from surprise to, briefly, comprehension, and then to sorrow. "I really am a fool," he said softly. "I did not— I am very sorry, Kurt."

"So am I," Kurt said, pulling a handkerchief from his pocket. His anger was receding, and he feared it had been the only thing keeping him from crying. He wished he had remained calm and held his tongue, for then he could have continued to believe there was a chance that Blaine might love him. Instead he had to watch his friend struggling with the same shame and embarrassment Kurt had felt when he had refused Miss Jones.

"It is my fault," Blaine said. "I should have realized."

"No, I should have known better." Kurt ducked his head and dabbed at his eyes with his handkerchief. "I should have known that someone like...her...could never care for someone like me."

"I am sure she cares for you as a friend. As do I."

"Was I wrong to hope for something more than friendship?"

"I cannot say that it was wrong. But you must know that you can have no future together."

"That does not matter to me."

"Perhaps it should." Blaine looked at his pocket watch. "I ought to go. I will hardly have time to dress and dine before the theater." He rose from his seat and began pulling on his gloves.

So that was that. Blaine would go to the theater with Miss Berry. Perhaps he would marry her. She would be Lady Dalton, and Kurt would be a country squire who grew old and died in Lima. People would say it was a shame that he had never married. He had known all along that this was what his future held; his only hopes had been for the present.

In another moment Blaine would be gone. Kurt had to say something. "Shall I call on you tomorrow?" he asked, his voice cracking in the most undignified manner. "You can tell me about the play."

Blaine looked down at him, not unkindly, and said "I do not think that would be a good idea. Good afternoon, Kurt." He laid a hand on Kurt's shoulder for a too-brief instant, and then he was walking away, out the door, and into the crowded street.

Kurt sat looking out the window for a long time, even after Blaine was out of sight.


	25. A Confrontation on the Street

**Author's Note: **This chapter contains one of the scenes I had considered cutting, so I hope those of you who encouraged me not to neglect my subplots enjoy getting a little backstory on one of them. I also hope you will all forgive me for ending on a cliffhanger, it was just too tempting!

* * *

><p>The weather proved more willing to match itself to Kurt's mood than it had to Blaine's. It rained most obligingly for the next three days. This provided Kurt with a ready excuse for staying indoors and being miserable, though by Monday he was forced to claim he had a stomachache as well to explain his lack of appetite.<p>

In a reversal of their usual roles, Finley prepared mugs of warm milk and brought them to his stepbrother's room. "I hope you have not caught Miss Fabray's ailment," he said. "She was ill for so long, though the worst of it seems to have passed now. Do you feel faint? She often said she felt faint."

"I do not think I am in any danger of swooning, and I am sure I do not have the same complaint as Miss Fabray." Kurt was a bit surprised that Miss Fabray still had not explained the true nature of her ailment to Finley, but his mind was occupied with other matters.

The Hummels were to spend only one week more in Bath. Kurt still did not know where he stood with Blaine. He was not certain he would even have the chance to see him again before the Hummels returned to Lima. Blaine had discouraged Kurt from calling on him and had not called himself these past few days. Though Kurt tried to convince himself that the rain had kept Blaine at home, he had called before when the weather was bad. Blaine had said at Molland's that he cared for Kurt as a friend, but a caring friend ought to have called or at least sent a note to ask how he was. Kurt might be dying of a broken heart for all Blaine knew.

Kurt had never expected to find himself asking his stepbrother for advice on affairs of the heart, but he had no one else to turn to. "Finley, did you always intend to marry Miss Fabray?"

"No, of course not. When I was a boy I never thought of marriage at all!"

"I mean once you began courting her. Did you know that she was the woman you wanted to marry, or did you ever think that perhaps you ought to only be friends?"

"I thought for a time that Miss Fabray would not have me, and that I had better find someone else." Finley paused for such a long time that Kurt thought he had finished speaking, then said "I fear I used Miss Berry ill. She is such a sensitive girl."

"Excessively so, I always felt," said Kurt. He knew there had been a brief flirtation between Finley and Miss Berry; Miss Fabray had told him as much herself. She had described it as Miss Berry pursuing Finley and Finley being too kind to reject her, which had sounded plausible enough to Kurt. He felt that Finley had little cause to feel guilty now. "She has a tendency to make too much of things."

"Then I ought to have been more careful in my conduct! You do not know how I behaved. It was very wrong of me, even if Miss Fabray and I were not yet engaged."

Kurt raised an eyebrow. "Do tell."

Slowly, in his typically rambling way, Finley explained how one day that summer he had met Miss Berry while walking back from the village. She had planned to spend the day sketching the landscape and had packed a picnic lunch. Finley offered to carry her basket for her. Once they had found a spot with a suitably picturesque view, she invited him to join her for refreshments. They had a long conversation during which much raspberry cordial was consumed.

"And then I—I kissed her," Finley stammered, getting to the point at last. "I kissed her, and I felt—well, I felt as I had not expected to feel with any woman but Miss Fabray. I was not certain then whether Miss Fabray would ever agree to marry me. We'd had a terrible quarrel only a few days before. She'd said that I lacked ambition and would never be able to provide for a family. Miss Berry seemed pleased to just sit and talk with me, and I thought she was such a good sort of girl and really quite pretty in her way, and...I could not help myself."

"She must have been very surprised," Kurt said drily. He knew Miss Berry had no great interest in drawing, or in any artistic pursuit that did not involve an admiring audience. He considered it unlikely that she would be wandering about with a heavy basket unless she expected to meet a certain strapping young soldier.

"She swore she was not angry with me, but I knew that I should not have taken advantage of her in such a way. I made my apologies and went home. Then the next time I saw Miss Fabray she told me that she was sorry she had been so cross with me and that she hoped I would forgive her. I could hardly be angry at her after what I had done."

"Does Miss Fabray know what happened between you and Miss Berry?"

"Yes, I confessed to her that I had gone walking with Miss Berry and that we had kissed. I thought Miss Fabray would be upset, but she was really most understanding about it. She asked me if I preferred Miss Berry to her, and I said I did not. Then she said that if I promised to be true to her from then on, she would kiss me as often as I liked." Finley scratched his neck and smiled dreamily. "I asked for her hand soon afterward."

Kurt suspected that during this reconciliation Miss Fabray had agreed to do more than kiss. Many puzzling aspects of Miss Fabray and Miss Berry's behavior had become clearer to him after hearing Finley's tale, but he had been more interested to learn that both Finley and Miss Fabray had once possessed doubts about their future together. Perhaps there was still a chance that Blaine would change his mind about Kurt. It was very pleasant to think of Blaine promising to kiss him whenever he liked.

The next day, the weather and Kurt's mood both having improved, he decided it was high time he paid a call on Miss Fabray. He explained at breakfast that he intended to advise Miss Fabray on the trim for her wedding gown and asked if Finley wished to accompany him. As Kurt had predicted, his stepbrother claimed he had other business to attend to that morning. Kurt set off for the King's Circus alone.

As he was passing through Laura Place, someone called his name. He did not have to turn to see that it was Miss Berry. He had no desire to hear of her evening at the theater with Blaine, so he turned up the collar of his coat and began walking more quickly. She pursued, the clinking of her pattens coming closer and closer behind him.

"Mr. Hummel! Mr. Hummel! I know that you hear me!"

He whirled around and lifted his hat to her. "Ah, Miss Berry! How delightful to see you! I am afraid I cannot stop to chat. Good day."

He was not to escape so easily. "So you have not the courage to face me after what you have done!" Miss Berry cried. "I should not be surprised. Only a coward would send his friends to torment me!"

"I have no idea what you are talking about."

"How dare you say such things to Lady Susan? I have never been so offended in my life!"

"You are confused, Miss Berry." Kurt was confused as well. He had thought at first that she must be angry about the Malvolio Scheme, yet Lady Susan had no part in that. "I have never spoken of you to Lady Susan, and I cannot think why I would ever wish to."

"She told me herself! She came to warn me to withdraw my claws from you, for I was not fit to be joined to the same family as her goddaughter, and to be careful lest I gain a reputation as a fortune hunter. Do not try to deny it! Miss Jones said that you told her that you were in love with me as well."

Kurt remembered that Lady Susan had been at Molland's the last time he had been there with Blaine. She must have overheard their conversation and taken it at face value as a quarrel over Miss Berry. While it was fortunate that Lady Susan had not suspected his true meaning, Kurt wished that she had not taken it upon herself to interfere. Now he would have to deal with Miss Berry.

"Did that surprise you?" he said. "It would take a harder heart than mine to resist a girl with your delicate manners and placid nature. Yet as charming as I find it to stand in the street and listen to you shout about your quarrels with other women, not even love can compel me to spend another moment looking at that bonnet. Please give my regards to your grandmother, for I assume that is who lent it to you."

Miss Berry's eyes flashed. "Spare me your irony, Mr. Hummel. You may think me a fool, but I know who it is you love, and for whose sake you spread these lies about me."


	26. Accusations and Explanations

**Author's Note:** I truly did not mean to leave you all hanging for so long, but things have been kind of rough for me personally recently. I think this chapter is better for having time to sit and stew, though.

I've received a few comments in reviews and private messages from people curious about Blaine's perspective. I'm committed to keeping this story from Kurt's POV, but Blaine will be explaining himself to Kurt within the next few chapters. If you're curious about my take on Blaine's POV then check out my previous story, _Blame It On the Coffee_, which covers major events of season two from Blaine's perspective.

* * *

><p>Kurt knew that if he panicked he was lost. Though he wanted nothing more than to flee, that would be as good as a confession to Miss Berry. He had to remain calm. He must not betray himself with excessive denials or protestations. She might be suspicious, but she could not be certain of the truth of her accusations...unless Blaine had told her. No, he must not think of it. He had to concentrate on playing the role of an innocent man.<p>

"You have been reading too many novels, Miss Berry," he said in as cool a tone as he could muster.

"I have never read one with this plot," she replied.

"Then perhaps you should write it yourself, as you have already gone to the trouble of inventing the story. Secret love affairs and conspiracies!" He forced a laugh. "Such things might make for a thrilling work of fiction, but do not imagine them surrounding you in real life."

Miss Berry bit her lip and looked around at the crowded street. "Come inside," she said, grabbing Kurt's hand. "Quickly." He could hardly refuse. Miss Berry led him into her lodgings and then on into a small sitting room. She closed the door behind them. "We will not be overheard here," she said.

"There will be little to overhear. I have nothing more to say to you."

"Then I will speak and you will listen. I have seen the way you look at him, Mr. Hummel. I understand your feelings, for they are much the same as my own, but you cannot think that he will ever return your affections. It is unnatural. He is your brother!"

"What, Finley?" Kurt's surprise was as great as his relief. Blaine had not revealed his secret and Miss Berry had not guessed the truth. She had come too close to it for his comfort, but he could address this particular accusation honestly. "Miss Berry, you do not understand me at all if you think that I regard him as any more, or less, than a brother. Though he was not born so, since our parents' marriage he has been my brother as surely as if he were my father's son."

"So you say, and yet you are so desperate to keep him with you that you have given me false advice, turned Lady Susan against me, and sent Mr. Anderson to seduce me!"

This last remark was so absurd that Kurt was not certain whether he should be offended or amused. "Why on Earth should I send Mr. Anderson to seduce you?"

"To distract me from Mr. Hudson-Hummel!" Miss Berry cried. "Do you deny that as well? You are the one who encouraged me to think of him. After the ball you said I would dance with him again, and at my party you said I ought to find a man like him to marry."

"I was speaking in general terms. I meant only that you should think of men other than Finley."

"You certainly did your best to ensure that I would. You asked Mr. Anderson to sing that song for me and accompany me to the theater, hoping I would forget all about your brother the moment another man paid attention to me! Well, your scheme did not work. I am not so fickle, and Mr. Anderson is not so dishonest. He came to me yesterday and confessed that his feelings for me were of friendship only."

Kurt's heart beat faster. "He did?"

"Yes, and he made me a very pretty apology. He said he hoped I would forgive him for his frivolous behavior. He was too honorable to refuse responsibility for his actions, but I saw whose hand was behind it."

"This is all a misunderstanding," Kurt said. "I never encouraged Mr. Anderson to pursue you. That was some whim of his. I could see that his intentions were not serious and I attempted to convince him not to accept your uncle's invitation to the theater. We quarreled about it at Molland's. Lady Susan must have overheard us. I had no notion of it until you told me she had been to see you."

This explanation did little to mollify Miss Berry. "What of your advice to me? 'You must play Cleopatra', bah! You made me look ridiculous!"

"You made yourself look ridiculous," Kurt countered. "Why did you come to Bath? It was not to take the waters. It was because you knew Finley would be here."

"What if it was? It is no business of yours where I go or who I see."

"As careless as you are of your own reputation, you cannot expect me to demonstrate a similar lack of concern for my brother's," said Kurt. He hoped she would believe that his concern was in fact fraternal. "I did my best to discourage your silly schoolgirl infatuation, but you were determined to throw yourself at him. Yes, I deceived you, because I hoped that a private embarrassment would cause you to check your behavior before you humiliated yourself and him in a far more public manner. Finley will never be yours. The sooner you accept that, the better."

"He cares for me," Miss Berry insisted. "I know that he does."

"He is in love with Miss Fabray and he will marry her."

"They are not married yet," said Miss Berry. "I must tell him that I love him. Miss Fabray cannot care for him as I do. She might marry any man she liked. If Mr. Hudson-Hummel knew how I felt then he would choose me!"

She was relentless. Worse still, she might be right. When Finley had told Kurt about his kiss with Miss Berry, it had seemed as though he had some lingering feelings for her. Although Miss Fabray was wealthier and more beautiful, she was not particularly affectionate. Finley might find Miss Berry's unreserved adoration more appealing.

Kurt had to stop her. His schemes had failed, even the ones he had not intended, as had his attempts to reason with Miss Berry. He had only one weapon left to use against her, and that was the truth. "It is too late," he said. "Miss Fabray is carrying his child."

"No," Miss Berry gasped. "No, it cannot be. You are lying!"

"You have the evidence of your own eyes. Women pay such attention to each other's figures, I am sure you have noticed the change in hers."

"I thought perhaps she had eaten too many Bath buns," Miss Berry said weakly. "Miss Jones is very fond of them."

"You have believed what you wished to believe," said Kurt. "But it is time to give up the fantasy. You would ask Finley to abandon his fiancée for your sake, and perhaps it would please you to see Miss Fabray ruined. But what of the child? He has done you no harm." Kurt had not wanted to betray Miss Fabray's secret, but now that it was done he would not have it be for nothing. He must drive his point home. Miss Berry was an orphan herself, she could not be indifferent to the plight of a fatherless child. "Is that innocent creature to be raised in poverty and shame so that you might have your own way? Do you think that my brother is the sort of man who would behave in such a disgraceful manner? Would you want him if he were?"

When Miss Berry began to cry, Kurt knew that he had defeated her. It gave him little pleasure. Stubborn and selfish as she was, he could not help sympathizing with a fellow sufferer of unrequited love.

"How could he?" she asked, her voice choked with tears. "How could he do such a thing?"

"I do not admire him for it," Kurt said. "But what's done is done. I am sorry you had to find out this way. I hope that I can trust you to keep it a secret. In a few months everyone will know, but a scandal before the wedding will only hurt the child. Please do not tell even Miss Jones."

Miss Berry continued weeping into her handkerchief. Kurt felt it wisest not to press her. He rose to leave. His hand was on the doorknob when Miss Berry spoke his name.

"Mr. Hummel," she said, sniffing. "Why did you tell Miss Jones that you loved me?"

He sighed. "I did not exactly tell her that. She made the assumption, and I did not correct her."

"Why? It had nothing to do with your brother and Miss Fabray, did it?"

"No. I...I was trying not to hurt her. It seemed kinder than saying that I do not intend to marry." He opened the door. "Good day, Miss Berry."

"Wait!" she cried, but he dared not wait. He had said too much already. He was halfway down the stairs when she called after him again. "Mr. Hummel! Please do not go."

"I have many things to do today, Miss Berry."

"I only wish to speak to you for a moment."

Kurt reached the bottom of the stairs. He considered running out through the front door, but if Miss Berry followed then it would likely lead to the sort of public scene he had hoped to avoid. He would have to hear her out. He turned and watched Miss Berry come down the stairs, hoping she would not question him too closely on the subject of his "unnatural" desires. She already suspected that he was in love with someone, and he had as good as admitted that it was someone he could not marry. He would lie. He would have to lie. He just had to think of a suitable lie to tell. Perhaps he ought to claim that he was in love with Miss Fabray.

Miss Berry came to the last step and stopped there, the extra height allowing her to look Kurt directly in the eye. "My uncle never married," she began.

"Yes, I had noticed that you did not have an aunt."

"What I mean is that marriage is not for everyone. You need not be ashamed. It is not admirable to marry when there is no love. Sometimes such things are unavoidable, women with no husbands to provide for them can have a difficult time in life, but your situation is not so dire. You will have your own estate."

"Indeed," Kurt said, uncertain as to Miss Berry's motives. He doubted that she had chased after him just to tell him things that he already knew. He wondered if this was her way of saying that she was not angry at him for spurning Miss Jones. He would rather have heard that Miss Jones had forgiven him.

"You need not be lonely. Your friends and relations can come to visit you. Perhaps you will even find a special friend to share Hartfield House with you, as Mr. LeRoy has shared my uncle's house."

"It seems an economical arrangement for two bachelors," Kurt said carefully. He would not be tricked into giving himself away.

"Yes," said Miss Berry. "It is good to have a friend to share things with. Like David and Jonathan." She looked to the side for a moment as if trying to remember something, then added "First Samuel, Chapter 18."

Kurt was in no mood for a religious discussion. "As you say. I really must be going now."

"Good day to you then, Mr. Hummel."

He raised his hat to her and went out into the street.


	27. Lady Susan Voices Her Disapproval

**Author's Note:** It's been one thing after another around here, including a major bout of writer's block, but I am finally back – about a month later than I expected – with a new chapter.

* * *

><p>Though Kurt's heart pulled him towards the Royal Crescent, he felt a duty to call upon Miss Fabray without further delay. He arrived at her lodgings and was received in the drawing room by both Miss Fabray and Lady Susan.<p>

"Mr. Hummel! I did not expect to see you today," said Miss Fabray. "Is Finley not with you? I hope he is not ill."

"No, he is healthy as always. He had some business to attend to, so I thought I would call to ask how your wedding gown was coming along."

"A ridiculous waste of money," snorted Lady Susan. Kurt knew that she was not much interested in fashion, and had hoped that this topic would be dull enough for her that she would excuse herself and leave him with Miss Fabray. It was not to be. He had underestimated the pleasure Lady Susan took in voicing disapproval. She spoke at length on the perils of vanity, the eminent practicality of riding habits for daily wear, and the general decline of morality under the Prince Regent.

When at last her godmother's diatribe had come to an end, Miss Fabray said "My dressmaker assures me it will be finished by the end of the week."

"Should have been done days ago," said Lady Susan. "You must not let these tradespeople take advantage of you."

"Quality work cannot be rushed," Kurt said. "We chose a _modiste_ with an excellent reputation, and I trust that she will see to it that the gown is fitted and stitched to perfection. Miss Fabray will be the most beautiful bride that Lima has ever seen."

"You are too kind, Mr. Hummel." Miss Fabray's tone was polite, but Kurt noticed that she was avoiding his gaze.

"It is not kindness, merely the truth," Kurt replied. "I confess it is not kindness that leads me to take an interest in your wedding, either. I have always been fond of such occasions. Finley's marriage of course gives me particular cause for joy. As you know, my family is a small one. For many years my father and I had no one but each other. Then his second marriage gave me a stepmother and brother, and now that brother's marriage will bring me a sister. I hope a little niece or nephew will soon follow."

"I hardly expect it will be little, not if Mr. Hudson-Hummel is the father," said Lady Susan. "Do not look so shocked, Quinn. You knew he was a great hulking creature when you agreed to marry him. I cannot think you will have any easy time of it."

"I am sure Mr. Hummel does not wish to hear about such things," said Miss Fabray delicately.

"No, men never like to hear about the lying-in. They are only interested in what happens nine months before."

"Lady Susan!" Miss Fabray cried, her cheeks bright pink.

"I ought to be going anyway," Kurt said. He busied himself with putting on his hat and gloves, hoping the ladies would not notice his own blushes. "Lady Susan, it has been a pleasure as always. Miss Fabray, please let me know if I can be of any assistance with your gown or any of the other wedding preparations."

Once back on the street, it took him only a few minutes to make his way to the Royal Crescent. He hesitated for some time in front of No. 28, wondering if Blaine would be pleased to see him. Kurt thought that Blaine must wish to mend their quarrel, for he had told Miss Berry that he thought of her only as a friend. On the other hand, Blaine had called upon Miss Berry yet had not continued on a few short blocks to Kurt's lodgings. Perhaps he was still angry. Or perhaps he feared that Kurt was still angry. Kurt wished there was some way to know what Blaine was thinking, but he would get nowhere by continuing to stare at the door. He steeled his nerves and knocked.

His courage brought him little reward. The servant who answered informed him that Lord Dalton and Mr. Anderson were not at home. Kurt left his card, carefully folding a corner to indicate that he had come in person.

The walk back to Pulteney Street seemed longer than usual. The shop windows held no allure for Kurt. He felt confused and uncertain. He struggled to put his thoughts in order. Though he had not had the opportunity to speak privately with Miss Fabray, he had done his best to set her mind at ease. Yet that very morning he had betrayed her secret to Miss Berry. Though he had only done it to put an end to Miss Berry's pursuit of Finley, Miss Fabray surely would have preferred that this information be kept from her rival. Still, Kurt felt he could trust Miss Berry to be discreet on this matter. Even if compassion for the child were not enough, she would keep silent so as not to hasten the wedding. Were Miss Fabray's condition to become publicly known then Finley would be obligated to marry her immediately.

He felt less confident that Miss Berry would keep her suspicions about Kurt private. She would not be harmed by his ruin. Her heart had been broken, and she might consider it a fitting revenge to blacken the name of the family she had once hoped to join.

Distressing as this thought was, upon further reflection Kurt did not think it likely. Miss Berry had no evidence against him. She had been raised by two lawyers and was thus presumably aware that there were penalties for slander. Were she to begin spreading rumors about Kurt and Finley to others then she would also risk raising suspicion about her own guardians; they were after all two bachelors living together. Miss Berry had pointed this out herself. Kurt had thought it strange at the time. Her manner had been surprisingly gentle considering how angry she had been just moments before. She must have seen how distressed he was and realized how offensive her accusations had been. Perhaps her remarks about bachelors and friendship had been meant only to reassure Kurt that she was no longer suspicious of his motives. Yes, this seemed the most plausible explanation. Miss Berry would hardly have compared Kurt to her own uncle if she still believed him guilty of unnatural love.

He did not consider himself guilty of unnatural love either. Kurt knew most of the world would not agree, but his feelings for Blaine came from his heart and there could be nothing more natural than that. To pretend to feel things that one did not, that would be unnatural. He was glad that Blaine had realized this and ended his flirtation with Miss Berry. Kurt doubted that Miss Berry was truly as indifferent to Blaine's attentions as she had claimed to be, and now that she understood she could never marry Finley she might be open to offers from another quarter. Many would consider the son of a baron a far match better than the likes of Miss Berry had any right to expect. Yet for all her flaws, Kurt knew that Miss Berry was neither a fortune-hunter nor a title-hunter. She wished to marry for love. Ultimately she would have been no happier with Blaine than Blaine would have been with her. By stepping down from his role as suitor, Blaine had left Miss Berry a chance of finding happiness with someone else.

She had always had a far greater chance of finding happiness than did Kurt. As he passed through Laura Place again, he wondered if this were not the primary reason why he had never liked her. He could accept that a woman who was beautiful, witty, or simply good-natured might win the heart of some charming gentleman. Miss Berry, however, seemed no more worthy of love than he was, and yet in the eyes of most men she must be ranked far ahead of Kurt simply because she _was_ a woman. Even Blaine felt no more than friendship for him, and perhaps less than friendship now.

Not for the first time, Kurt thought how much easier it would be if there were not so many secrets, so many hopes and fears that could not safely be expressed. He had scoffed at Miss Berry's talk of conspiracies, but if anything she had underestimated how many of her acquaintances had hidden motives. Miss Berry herself was one of the few exceptions, and only because she did such a poor job of concealing her love for Finley. Mr. Puckerman was another. Such a man could have no secrets; he always said whatever he was thinking, no matter how inappropriate.

The two were in many ways well-suited to one another. They followed the same faith, though Mr. Puckerman seemed far from devout, and both possessed open natures, strong wills, and a certain lack of refinement. Kurt doubted there was a woman alive who could tame Mr. Puckerman, but Miss Berry was stubborn enough to resist being cowed by him. Though Finley and Mr. Puckerman had quite different characters, Kurt thought a woman who could love one of these friends might in time come to love the other. Mr. Puckerman was certainly handsome enough to attract a woman's notice, and while he was not quite as tall as Finley a petite woman like Miss Berry might find that preferable. By the time Kurt reached the steps leading up to his lodgings, he had decided that his next matchmaking scheme would be to bring Miss Berry and Mr. Puckerman together. He could not expect Miss Berry to take his advice any time soon, but Mr. Puckerman might be receptive to his hints. Although Mr. Puckerman had never expressed any intention to take a wife, with his closest friend soon to marry he must have entertained some ideas on the subject.

Kurt let himself in the front door, and a moment later all thought of Miss Berry and Mr. Puckerman vanished from his mind. The hall table held a card that he was certain had not been there before. A corner had been turned up.

Two steps brought him close enough to snatch it from the card tray, though his heart had already told him what gentleman's name would be upon it. He was not disappointed. Indeed he was pleased beyond his expectations, for above the engraved _Blaine Anderson_ was a penciled message:

_Molland's – today? tomorrow? the day after?_


	28. A Quarrel Mended

**Author's Note: **This is a short and rather quiet chapter. It is more cheerful than the last few, and less dramatic than the one I have planned for next time!

I have only a couple of minor historic notes. The banns of marriage were the formal announcement that a marriage was to take place. They had to be read in the engaged couple's parish church three Sundays in a row before the wedding could take place. There were ways to get around this requirement, but they're not relevant here.

A steeplechase is a cross-country horse race. These were fairly popular during the Regency, but were not yet major organized events. I place the one mentioned here near Wincanton (about 25 miles south of Bath) because there is a racecourse there today. I also learned from Wikipedia that Wincanton is sister city to the fictional Discworld city of Ankh-Morpork, and since I love the Discworld books I decided I had to work Wincanton in somehow!

* * *

><p>Blaine was already at Molland's when Kurt arrived. He appeared to have been there for some time. Only crumbs were left on the dish that must once have held one of the establishment's fine pastries. An unfolded newspaper lay on the table beside him, but he sat staring down into his mug. Though the day was fair and mild, he had his hands cupped around it as if for warmth.<p>

He looked up as Kurt approached. "I was beginning to think you would not come," he said softly.

"I came as soon as I saw your note. I have been out all day." Kurt seated himself in the empty chair across from Blaine. "I called for you, after I left Miss Fabray. You were not home."

"We must have just missed each other."

"Unfortunately I was delayed setting out this morning. I ran into Miss Berry on the street."

Blaine raised his eyebrows. "I suppose she had nothing kind to say about me."

"Quite the contrary. She thinks I colluded with you to distract her from my brother, and that you were too much a gentleman to go through with such a dishonorable scheme. She was much impressed with your honesty." Kurt allowed this remark to hang in the air for a moment. He did not know whether Blaine had invited him here to apologize or to defend his own actions. When the other man made no reply, Kurt continued in a gentler tone. "Why did you tell her that you regarded her only as a friend?"

"Because it is true." Blaine sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "And because you were right. That night we went to the theater, Miss Berry could scarcely open her mouth without speaking your brother's name. She said she thought me quite as handsome as Mr. Hudson-Hummel. My manners she found much nicer than Mr. Hudson-Hummel's, my education more extensive than Mr. Hudson-Hummel's, and my singing also far superior to Mr. Hudson-Hummel's."

"How flattering," Kurt said dryly.

"It soon became clear to me that, to Miss Berry, your brother is the model against which all other men must be judged. She is very much in love with him."

"And he is very much in love with Miss Fabray."

"My point is that she loves, and wishes to be loved," Blaine said. "If not by Mr. Hudson-Hummel then by some other worthy gentleman. As a wife, not...a sister."

"Is that what you wanted?" Kurt asked. "A sister?"

"I know it sounds foolish, but I thought if...if I'd had a sister, she might have been something like Miss Berry. Small and dark and always singing." Blaine shrugged and cast his eyes back down at his mug. "I am much alone at home. My father and aunt are not ideal company, and they both expect me to marry."

"Blaine, you know that I come from a small family as well," Kurt said. "Only today I was telling Miss Fabray how fortunate I felt that it was to be again increased by marriage. But I would not ask Finley to marry just so that I might have a sister. It is too solemn, too permanent a union to be entered into lightly. A marriage should be a happy occasion, but an unwise marriage can destroy the happiness of all involved."

"I assure you that I shall be no further threat to Miss Berry's happiness. I never thought to be the sort of man who would deal falsely with a woman, or to allow a quarrel over a woman to come between me and a friend, yet that is what happened." Though he spoke with some irony, when Blaine looked up at Kurt again his countenance was somber. "I hope you can forgive me."

So mournful was the expression in his dark eyes that Kurt felt he might have forgiven him almost anything. He pressed his fingers to the back of Blaine's hand, remembering how Blaine had comforted him this way on another afternoon at Molland's. It seemed a long time ago. "Of course I forgive you," Kurt said.

"I am glad to hear it. I have not been blessed with many friends." Blaine clasped Kurt's hand in his for a too-brief moment before drawing away. "I can ill afford to lose you."

"So we are still friends?" Kurt asked.

"I hope that we will always be friends."

"Like David and Jonathan."

"Pardon?"

"Oh, it was just something Miss Berry said to me." Kurt did not know why he had repeated her comment. He had never had much patience for reading scripture and was not even certain who Jonathan was. Probably one of those ancient warriors who begat someone who begat someone else. Still, he had understood Miss Berry's meaning well enough. "She thought I ought to have a friend, a gentleman friend, so that I will not be lonely after my brother marries," he explained. "I expect it will be quiet at home once he leaves us."

"Has the date been set yet?"

"No, but I am sure Miss Fabray will want the banns read as soon as we return to Lima. She means to marry before Christmas."

"But you will remain in Bath until the end of the month, will you not?"

Kurt shook his head. "We took our lodgings for only six weeks. We leave Monday."

"I see," Blaine said. "I suppose you have many other engagements this week?"

"I have nothing planned."

"Nor have I." Blaine smiled then for the first time during their meeting, a smile as brilliant as it was unexpected. "My father will go to see a steeplechase in Wincanton, but I do not care for races," he continued. "He leaves in the morning and should be away two or three days. Shall we spend them together? If I am to be deprived of your company so soon, I would like to enjoy as large a portion of it as I can now."

Kurt could hardly refuse so charming an invitation. Even if they were to be no more than friends, he could think of no finer way to end his holiday in Bath than to make a final circuit of its pleasure spots with Blaine. After some discussion they made plans to meet the next day at the Pump Room. Then the fast approaching dinner hour forced them to bid each other a good evening and go their separate ways.


	29. Fortuna Balnearis

**Author's Note:** January 28, 2013 was the 200th "birthday" of _Pride & Prejudice_, and a week later I hit 200 reviews for this story. (Faithful reviewer **HarmonyLover** was #200.) It continues to amaze me that _Glee & Glory_ has been so popular. When I began I wasn't sure anyone but me would be interested in a mix of Jane Austen and _Glee_, and considering how slowly I write I'm surprised so many readers have managed to stick with me! I'm actually kind of surprised _I _managed to stick with it this long; this is the longest thing I've ever written by a significant margin and I don't think I could have managed it if I didn't know that there were people out there reading along and wanting to know what would happen next. So thank you to everyone who has left me any one of those 200 reviews. I couldn't have done it without you.

I also wanted to mention that the story that first inspired me to write a historic Klaine story, _Il Castrato_ by **ChuckNorrisLeftFist**, was recently updated. If you like historic Klaine then check it out! It's set in 18th century Venice, where Kurt is an opera singer. You can find it at www dot fanfiction dot net /s/6994849/1/Il-Castrato

This new chapter is one that I suspect you will either love or hate. It contains several of the things I had in mind when I asked if you all wanted to see this story's subplots continued or not. I came close to cutting it entirely, then seriously considered spreading the events out over several chapters. Then I finally decided to just throw it all together into one crazy chapter! There is definitely some Klaine here but it's more about the supporting characters – including a few who have not appeared in this story before. Most will have little if any role in future chapters, but I wanted to have a bit of fun and tie off some loose ends before Kurt leaves Bath.

As for historic notes, Fortuna (also known in English as Dame Fortune and Lady Luck) was the Roman goddess of fate and fortune. The chapter title, Fortuna Balnearis, refers to the aspect of Fortuna that watched over public baths. I imagine she would be the one most interested in the city of Bath. Piquet was a card game for two players and had rather complicated rules. Beau Brummell was a Regency fashion icon who had a huge influence on changes in men's clothing styles during the period. To "demand satisfaction" was to challenge someone to a duel. This was commonly done by throwing a glove down in front of the person being challenged. Dueling was illegal, but still fairly common, during the Regency era. In _Pride & Prejudice_ Mrs. Bennett expects that Mr. Bennett will duel with a villainous character. Observant Jane Austen fans may also notice that I've borrowed some phrasing from _Emma_ and a partial scene from _Persuasion_ with regard to one of the new characters.

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><p>Neither misadventure nor foul weather interfered with Kurt's walk to the Pump Room the following day. Rarely had fate been so kind to a young man in love. When he arrived at his destination he found that Blaine had not been suddenly summoned to London, stricken down with illness, or kidnapped by pirates, but was instead waiting for him beside the grandfather clock just as they had planned. They greeted one another and exchanged the usual pleasantries, little realizing how fortunate they were to have made it so far into the day without dramatic incident.<p>

The two friends had nearly completed their first circuit of the room when Fortuna once more turned her attention towards them.

"Pardon me, Mr. Hummel?"

Kurt turned and saw the girl he had danced with at the ball, Miss Pierce. "It _is_ you!" she exclaimed. "And Mr. Anderson too, how delightful!" She shook hands warmly with each of them. "Truly you are unicorns, always appearing when you are needed. I have been standing here and wishing I had someone to talk to, but I have so few acquaintances in Bath."

"Are you here all alone then?" Blaine asked, surprised.

"I am waiting for the Captain and Miss Lopez. I cannot think what could be keeping them. They went for a walk earlier and I said I would meet them here. Lord Tubbington and I were in the middle of a game of piquet and I did not wish to abandon it."

"Who won?" Kurt asked with a smile. Lord Tubbington, he recalled, was Miss Pierce's cat. Miss Lopez was her dog.

"Lord Tubbington, of course." Miss Pierce sighed. "I feel he must be cheating, but I can never catch him at it."

"I hope you are not much in debt to him," said Blaine.

"We only play for buttons. I cannot allow him any money; he would only spend it on cigars. Really he is very careless of his health. I always tell him that he must be more moderate in his habits, but he does not listen to me."

"My father is much the same way," Kurt said.

Pets and their care was a favorite topic of Miss Pierce's, and the central theme of the conversation that followed. Fortunately her amiable nature made this more tolerable than Kurt might have expected. Though Miss Pierce was not gifted with great wit or the ability to engage in discourse on a wide variety of subjects, neither was she enamored of the sound of her own voice. She was not shy about speaking, but was as happy to listen to Blaine's anecdotes about his aunt's pugs as she was to describe Lord Tubbington's ailments. She seemed genuinely delighted by Kurt's account of how he had sewn a variety of canary cage covers so that little Nozari might be both warm and fashionable.

Their discussion was interrupted by the arrival of Miss Pierce's friend, a uniformed Army officer of about Kurt's age but easily twice his size. "Oh Captain, what kept you so long?" Miss Pierce asked. "And where is Miss Lopez?"

"Gone to the Devil for all I know," the man replied. "She snarled at me and ran off."

"Shall we search for her?" Blaine suggested.

"She'll be back when it pleases her and not before," said the officer. "Who are you?"

"This is Mr. Anderson and Mr. Hummel," said Miss Pierce. "We met at a public ball a few weeks ago. Mr. Hummel was kind enough to ask me to dance and introduce me to his friends. Gentlemen, this is Captain Karofsky."

He nodded at Kurt and Blaine but offered no other greeting.

"Charmed, I am sure," said Blaine.

Kurt said nothing, for the moment Captain Karofsky had spoken Kurt had realized who he was. The night of the concert had been dark and he had not seen his assailant's face clearly, but he had no doubt that this was the man who had grabbed him. Who had forced that sickening, terrifying kiss upon him. And if Kurt had remembered Captain Karofsky's voice, Captain Karofsky was sure to remember his. Under ordinary circumstances Kurt was proud to have a refined, distinctive voice, but it was a liability if he wished to remain unrecognized.

His heart was pounding. The sound of Miss Pierce scolding the officer seemed to be coming from a great distance. "You must have provoked her. She is highly strung, I will not deny it, but there is not a dearer or more loyal creature in all the world." Fortunately Captain Karofsky appeared more interested in protesting his innocence to Miss Pierce than in attending to his new acquaintances. Kurt might manage to slip off into the crowd with the other man none the wiser.

Yet he could not leave without his friend. He had to make some signal to Blaine. Unfortunately Blaine was not then looking in Kurt's direction. He had turned to gaze out over the crowded room. Kurt plucked at Blaine's sleeve, hoping to convey through silent gesture that they must leave immediately.

Dame Fortune laughed at this plan.

"I say Kurt, is that not Miss Jones?" Blaine asked, pointing across the room. Indeed it was that lady, walking arm in arm with a young soldier who Kurt did not recognize.

"Who is that with her?" asked Miss Pierce. "He is a fine looking man."

"Yes, he is a very handsome fellow," Blaine agreed. "Is he a friend of your brother's?"

Kurt was spared the necessity of a reply by Captain Karofsky, who said "That's a strange comment to make about a soldier in His Majesty's Army."

"I mean no offense," said Blaine. "Mr. Hummel's brother is a soldier as well, that is why I asked if they were acquainted."

"You called him handsome," said Captain Karofsky.

"So I did. Do you not find him so?"

"No, I do not!" Captain Karofsky's round face had grown nearly as red as his jacket. "I'll be damned if I'll listen to such talk!"

"Watch your language," Blaine said. "There is a lady present."

"Do you refer to Miss Pierce or your catamite?" the captain sneered.

Blaine's eyes blazed with a fire Kurt had never seen in them before. He raised his hand and slowly began pulling off his glove, one finger at a time. Kurt realized with horror that Blaine meant to demand satisfaction of Captain Karofsky. He could remain silent no longer. "Stop, please! I do not care what he calls me."

Captain Karofsky laughed unpleasantly. "See? He knows what he is."

"I know what _you_ are," Kurt replied, drawing himself up to his full height. He was still half a head shorter than the captain, but it did not matter. "Why so quick to see an insult in an innocent remark? The lady doth protest too much, methinks." He could tell by the look in Captain Karofsky's eyes that the other man knew him now, and understood the significance of his words. A whisper in the right ear and the captain's reputation, his career, would be ruined.

Miss Pierce was the first to break the stunned silence. "Really Captain, you are behaving very badly," she said with surprising calm. "I am sure Mr. Anderson did not mean to hurt your feelings, but yon gentleman _is_ handsome. See what a fine figure he has? You cannot deny it."

"Shut your mouth, you stupid girl!" Captain Karofsky roared.

A dark figure brushed past Kurt, and suddenly another woman was standing between him and the captain. Kurt had never seen her before. She was a beauty of the Spanish type, with black hair and flashing eyes. She wore a red silk gown with an embroidered shawl tied rather awkwardly across her bosom.

"What is the meaning of this?" the woman demanded.

"It is none of your concern," answered Captain Karofsky.

"Your behavior is very much my concern," she said. "First you ruin my gown, and now I find you insulting my friend and no doubt harassing these gentlemen as well. I thought we had an understanding, Captain Karofsky, but it appears we do not. You may tell your father that you have a spare ticket to tonight's concert. I will not be accompanying you. Not tonight and not ever."

"But you said—"

The woman jabbed Captain Karofsky in the chest with the end of her fan. "Unless you wish to begin a new career as a eunuch, I suggest that you go. Now."

The captain stepped back to escape the woman's prodding. "Mad bitch," he muttered, then to Kurt's great relief turned and walked away without a backwards glance.

"I thank you, my lady, but you need not have troubled yourself," said Blaine. "We could have dealt with that brute."

"What, and deprive me of my fun?" she said, placing her fan back in her reticule. "The Captain has needed to be taken down a peg for a long time. I am glad to be the one to do it. But we have not been properly introduced. Who are these gentlemen, Brittany?"

"Oh, I do apologize," said Miss Pierce. "This is Mr. Hummel and Mr. Anderson. They are the gentlemen I told you about, who danced with me at the ball. Gentlemen, this is my dearest friend, Miss Lopez."

"Of course, I've heard so much about you," said Kurt, doing his best to hide his astonishment. He had pictured Miss Pierce's Miss Lopez as a spaniel or perhaps a terrier, not this proud Amazon. He grasped for a familiar topic. "Did you say something about your gown being damaged?"

"That beast spilled his drink on me," answered Miss Lopez. She pulled aside her shawl to reveal a dark stain on her bodice. "I blotted it with my handkerchief as best I could, but I fear it is hopeless. And it is one of my favorite gowns."

Kurt frowned at the stain. "If it has dried it may be impossible," he said. "Though it is worth giving it a rinse in cold water. If it will not come out you can always cover it with a spencer, but I think you would do better to have it remade. Waistlines are dropping in Paris as we speak, so you will soon want a new bodice for it anyway. I doubt you will be able to match the material, reds are always so difficult, but you might try a front panel in a contrasting color. A golden yellow would look well with your complexion. You could change the trim to match."

"Oh Tana, that sounds so pretty!" exclaimed Miss Pierce. "I told you he was a unicorn."

Miss Lopez raised her delicate black brows. "Goodness. How did a gentleman come to know so much of such things?"

"Mr. Hummel is quite the young Beau Brummell," said Miss Jones. She and her companion had walked over while Kurt was speaking. "I hope we are not intruding. We saw that you were having some difficulty with that officer. Is everything all right?"

"Nothing I could not manage," said Miss Lopez.

"It is kind of you to ask, Miss Jones," Kurt said. He did think it kind of her to be concerned. He had not spoken to her since Miss Berry's party, and she had not been pleased with him then. "I hope you have been well. I—it is good to see you."

"It is good to see you too, Mr. Hummel. I would like you to meet Mr. Samuel Evans."

Mr. Evans was the handsome soldier whose looks had attracted so much attention already. His appearance was of a sort that Kurt had always particularly admired. He was tall and well-built, with green eyes, light hair, and an air of good humor about him. He and Miss Jones had met only a few days before. "We had both gone to the same bakery to buy Bath buns, and she got the last of them," Mr. Evans explained. "I looked so pathetic that she made me a gift of one."

"I cannot stand to see a solider go hungry," said Miss Jones. She smiled up at Mr. Evans with bright eyes. "And you soon repaid me by allowing me to share your umbrella."

Mr. Evans was just as quick to repay her smile with one of his own. "I could hardly allow you to walk home in the rain."

To his surprise, Kurt found that he did not envy his friend the attentions of Mr. Evans. He was happy that Miss Jones had met someone who made her smile. Attractive as his looks and disposition were, Mr. Evans was so unlike Blaine that Kurt could not regard him as more than merely pleasant company.

Kurt glanced over at Blaine, wondering what his impression of Mr. Evans was. He already knew Blaine thought the other man handsome, but he had thus far made no attempt to strike up a conversation with Mr. Evans. In fact, Blaine had said little since Captain Karofsky's departure. Perhaps he was embarrassed about having a lady come to his defense. Kurt thought Blaine had been very brave throughout the encounter, but was glad Miss Lopez had been able to bring an end to it without violence.

The bold Miss Lopez soon announced herself in need of further amusement. As she was not to attend the concert with Captain Karofsky, she and Miss Pierce decided to host an impromptu fondue party instead. "Please do come, all of you," said Miss Pierce. "Lord Tubbington is terribly fond of fondue, so if we do not have guests he is sure to eat more than is good for him."

No one wished to place Lord Tubbington in such peril. Miss Piece's unusual invitation was accepted by all present. Once Kurt had assisted Miss Lopez in wrapping her shawl in a more stylish manner, they set off for Miss Pierce's lodgings. Miss Pierce and Miss Lopez led the way, their little fingers delicately hooked together. Miss Jones and Mr. Evans walked arm in arm behind them, with Kurt and Blaine bringing up the rear.

Kurt expected that Blaine would offer him his arm, the way he usually did when they walked together. Instead he reached over and clasped Kurt's hand in his. He did not say a word. He only held on tightly, as if afraid he might lose Kurt in the crowd.


	30. Fondue for Eight

**Author's Note:** This was intended to be just the first section of Chapter 30, but it grew as I wrote it. Since this section has a natural stopping point and the next section is giving me some trouble (I'm currently doing a major rewrite of it) I decided to post this as a chapter rather than make you all wait even longer for an update.

In an earlier draft of chapters 22-23 Miss Pierce had been invited to Miss Berry's party and was chaperoned by her aunt. I decided to cut that since those chapters had enough going on as it was, but I will indulge myself here and allow her aunt to make an appearance at the fondue party just because she's a fun character.

My historic notes are really just trivia, but since I find such things interesting I'll include them. In the course of my research I learned that, while the melted cheese dish known today as fondue did exist in the early 19th century, the word "fondue" was at the time used to describe a kind of cheese soufflé instead. One of the old cookbooks I came across said this was a good dish to make when you had unexpected company, as it only needed to bake for 15 minutes. We know that in canon Brittany likes the melted cheese kind of fondue, but I'm deliberately vague in my description of the dish here so one can imagine it as either kind.

The aria in this chapter has been mentioned previously, Haydn's "Begli occhi vezzosi". There's a 2009 performance by American mezzo-soprano Vivica Genaux on YouTube at www dot youtube dot com slash watch?v=NOJJbwaK0rw that I used for reference. All other songs mentioned in this chapter are taken from _The Jane Austen Songbook _(see note for Chapter 23). "The Irishman" was popular in the US as well, and was not only a favorite of Jane Austen but also young Abraham Lincoln!

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><p>Upon reaching Miss Pierce's lodgings, Kurt and his friends were welcomed by a very small woman and a very large cat. The cat was the famous Lord Tubbington and the woman was Miss Pierce's aunt, Mrs. Rhodes. She was fair like her niece but much shorter, with a figure that Kurt thought must present an interesting challenge for her dressmaker.<p>

"Why Brittany dear, who are these fine young gentlemen?" she asked. "Sit down, sit down, make yourselves comfortable."

Miss Pierce performed all the necessary introductions and explained that she had invited them for a fondue party. "It is all right, isn't it, Aunt Rhodes?"

"It is no trouble at all," said Mrs. Rhodes. "What is life for if not to make merry? We'll have that fondue ready before you can say Jack Robinson. Brittany, you fetch the cheese and I'll fetch the wine."

Before long they were eating fondue and enjoying themselves. As all were visitors to Bath, they discussed what they had seen and done in the city and complained about how soon they were to return home. Mr. Evans made them laugh with his jokes, and Miss Pierce with her many quaint remarks.

Kurt found it was something of a relief to be at a gathering without Finley, Miss Fabray, and Miss Berry. He had spent much of his time in Bath trying to serve as a barrier between Miss Berry and the other two. Being the keeper of everyone's secrets had also become very tiring. Here he could relax and talk with everyone without having to keep track of where others were or what they were saying. He did worry a bit about Blaine, who had seemed shaken by their confrontation with Captain Karofsky, but hot food and cheerful company did much to restore his friend's spirits. Blaine was still not very talkative, but smiled and laughed along with the others.

When the conversation shifted to music it soon became apparent that each of the ladies was proud of her accomplishments in that area. Once the fondue was finished, they all gathered around the piano in the drawing room. Mrs. Rhodes was the first to sing:

"_The turbaned Turk, who scorns the world,  
>May strut about with his whiskers curled,<br>Keep a hundred wives under lock and key  
>For nobody else but himself to see.<br>Yet long may he pray with his Alcoran [Al-Quran]  
>Before he can love like an Irishman!<br>Like an Irishman!  
>Before he can love like an Irishman!<br>The London folks themselves beguile,  
>And think they please in a capital style;<br>Yet let them ask as they cross the street,  
>Of any young virgin they happen to meet,<br>And I know she'll say from behind her fan  
>That there's none can love like an Irishman!<br>Like an Irishman!  
>That there's none can love like an Irishman!<em>"

She had a surprisingly powerful voice for such a petite woman. Though it was not a serious song, Mrs. Rhodes sang it with great charm and skill. He rather wished Miss Berry had been there after all so she might have heard her. There was not a lady in Lima who could cause Miss Berry to feel modest about her own accomplishments, but Kurt thought that even Miss Berry must be impressed by Mrs. Rhodes's singing.

Miss Pierce had not her aunt's talent, but sang "La Danse" prettily enough. She was followed by Miss Lopez, who performed "Filles Charmantes" in a rich, smoky voice. Miss Jones sang "Of Plighted Faith" in her typically beautiful manner, and then it was time for the gentlemen to demonstrate their own talents. The handsome Mr. Evans sang "The Soldier's Adieu" in a good, strong voice. Miss Jones seemed well pleased, praising him enthusiastically when he had finished.

"Who will be next?" Miss Pierce asked. "Mr. Hummel or Mr. Anderson?"

"Please allow me the honor," said Kurt. "Otherwise I fear I will have no chance to sing at all."

Blaine looked puzzled. "What do you mean? I am sure we are all eager to hear you."

"He means for us to coax him," said Miss Jones.

"I mean only that I had no opportunity to sing the piece I had prepared for Miss Berry's party. Another gentleman claimed the last song before I had taken my turn."

Kurt knew this was not a kind remark to make. It was petty to remain upset over such a small matter a week after it had occurred. Blaine perhaps did not even recall the incident, deep in his cups as he had been at the time. Blaine had not intended to slight him, Blaine never intended to slight him, but Kurt's hopes had been disappointed again and again. On this matter, at least, he could freely voice his complaint.

"I remember," Blaine said slowly. "You said you had been practicing a piece from that Haydn opera. Will you sing it for us now?"

"Oh yes, you must sing it for us Mr. Hummel!" exclaimed Miss Pierce.

"Very well then," said Kurt. He rose from his seat and turned to face the others. Miss Pierce and Mrs. Rhodes looked expectant. Miss Lopez appeared bored. Mr. Evans and Miss Jones had eyes only for each other. Blaine gazed up at Kurt with one of his enigmatic expressions. After all the time they had spent together, Kurt still could not tell what Blaine was thinking when he looked at him like this. He had wished so much to see his own feelings reflected back to him, but the tender look in those soft hazel eyes might mean almost anything. Affection or pity. Sorrow or hope.

Kurt closed his own eyes and tried to pretend that he was back at home, in Lima. He had sung "Begli occhi vezzosi" there many times. He had thought of no one in particular when he sang it. There had been no one in particular to think of, only a dream of bright eyes and smiling lips and how wonderful it must be to be in love.

What a child he had been. A child then, and a fool now. Blaine had made it clear he only cared for Kurt as a friend, yet here was Kurt preparing to sing the song he had once hoped would win Blaine's heart. He knew himself to be finally no better than Miss Berry, always hoping for love when anyone could see that it was hopeless. Yet she kept singing, despite it all. That was the lesson he must learn from her, to take comfort in music.

Kurt opened his eyes. He could see the last of the late afternoon sunlight through the window across the room. He put his shoulders back, took a deep breath, and sang:

"_Begli occhi vezzosi dell'idolo amato,  
>Brillate amorosi, sperate che il fato cangiarsi dovra.<br>Bei labbri ridenti del viso che adoro,  
>Sarete contenti che il nostro ristoro lontan non sara,<br>Lontan non sara."_

[_Beautiful eyes of my beloved idol,_  
><em>Bright and loving, hoping that Fate will change.<em>  
><em>Beautiful lips, smiling face that I adore,<em>  
><em>You will be glad, the time is not far,<em>  
><em>The time is not far.<em>]

He kept his face turned towards the light. He did not dare look at Blaine's beautiful eyes, his beautiful lips, until he had finished singing. Then, when the last note had faded away, Kurt lowered his head and their eyes met for just an instant before Blaine turned his head away. It happened so quickly that Kurt could not be certain whether he had really seen that look of sweet surprise in Blaine's expression or if that were only what he had wanted to see.

"That'll be some act to follow," said Mrs. Rhodes. "Do you need a drink first, Mr. Anderson?"

"No," said Blaine. "Thank you, but I do not care to drink and I am afraid I cannot sing. I was too eager to taste your delicious fondue and burned my tongue. Mr. Hummel's song must be our last."

With the entertainment over and the sky growing dark, the party soon came to an end. Kurt, Blaine, Miss Jones, and Mr. Evans bid their hostesses farewell and made their way out to the street, where they then made their good-byes to each other. This was not accomplished without first much clasping of hands and promises to meet the next day. While Miss Jones and Mr. Evans arranged to meet at a pastry shop, Blaine placed his hand on Kurt's shoulder and said "Will you call for me at home tomorrow?"

"Yes, of course."

"Good," said Blaine, his voice sounding oddly strained. "Good. I shall see you then." He seemed as though he were going to say something else, but he only squeezed Kurt's shoulder and wished him a pleasant evening.

Blaine then headed off in one direction and Mr. Evans in another, with only Kurt and Miss Jones remaining together. He offered her his arm and they walked back across town, in silence at first. Then Miss Jones said "That Miss Pierce is quite a character."

"She is an odd one, though there is no harm in her."

"Oh, I quite agree, but the things she said! When she told us she feared her cat was reading her diary it was all I could do not to laugh out loud. Really I thought I might have a fit!"

Soon they were chatting and laughing, not exactly like old times, but like friends. Just before they parted, Miss Jones said "Mr. Hummel, you do like him, don't you?"

He blinked, then realized she was speaking of Mr. Evans. "Yes, yes I do, actually," he said. "Do _you_ like him?"

Miss Jones nodded. "I do," she said. Even in the dim light Kurt could see her smile. "Very much."

"I'm glad," Kurt said. "Please give Mr. Evans my regards when you see him tomorrow, and tell him that he has my permission to court you."

"Are you my father now, Mr. Hummel?" Miss Jones asked, though from her playful tone Kurt could tell she was not offended.

"I would rather be your brother, so that I might reserve the right to tease you." Kurt lifted his hat to her. "Good night, Miss Jones."

"Good night, Mr. Hummel. Pleasant dreams."


	31. A Private Conversation

**Author's Note:** This chapter was the most difficult to write of anything in the story so far. Some crucial backstory is revealed here in addition to other plot developments, and I struggled to get the mood right. Fair warning, it is darker than the past few chapters have been, although there is nothing lurid or shocking.

There are a few bits of historic information that will help in making sense of things. First, duels were not necessarily "to the death" but rather "to first blood" – once someone was bleeding, it was over. As mentioned previously, although dueling was against the law the legal system often turned a blind eye to it, particularly if the duelists were gentlemen. As a titled nobleman Lord Dalton would have had some additional influence when it came to keeping his son out of trouble. Incidentally, while titled noblemen were not entirely above the law they did have certain legal privileges that made it easier to get away with criminal activity.

Speaking of criminal activity, sodomy was a capital crime in Britain during this period. However, the Napoleonic Code and laws influenced by this Code had decriminalized consensual same-sex relations in many European countries. As mentioned in the note for chapter three, this contributed to Lord Byron's decision to leave for the Continent in 1816.

At this point in the story we're in mid November 1818, but Valentine's Day is referenced. As stated by Blaine himself on _Glee_, Valentine's Day has been celebrated for centuries. I learned more about Valentine's Day customs of the era from William Hone's 1825 _The Every-Day Book, or The Guide to the Year_. One old tradition, also alluded to by Ophelia in _Hamlet_, was that the first person (of the appropriate sex and not a member of your own household) who you saw on Valentine's Day would be your valentine.

* * *

><p>The following day the morning paper carried the news that the Queen had died. Kurt was surprised but not shocked, given her advanced years and the recent reports of her poor health. Still, it was a tragic loss for the royal family and the nation as a whole. Kurt had always admired Queen Charlotte. The King had not been well for many years and the Prince Regent was no model of virtue, but the Queen had seemed to Kurt everything a queen ought to be. She had a suitably majestic appearance, was good-hearted and intelligent, and had been a great patroness of the arts. Kurt changed into a black suit before going out in order to show his respect for her. Yet while he was saddened to learn of the Queen's passing, this could not overshadow his eagerness to see Blaine.<p>

When he arrived at the Royal Crescent, his friend suggested that they take tea together there. "We have so few chances to speak privately," Blaine said. "If you will not miss their coffee very much, I would prefer to stay here rather than go to Molland's where we might be overheard by anyone."

Kurt agreed to this plan, wondering what Blaine had to say that could not be said in public. His curiosity was not to be satisfied immediately. Blaine first had to ring for the maid and then they both had to wait for her to return with the tea tray. Once they were alone again, Blaine seemed in no hurry to speak of anything but the temperature of the tea and whether Kurt would care for another scone.

Finally Kurt said "Do you really consider such conversation too scandalous for a public shop?"

"No," said Blaine. "I have something that I wanted to ask you. About that aria you sang yesterday."

"The Haydn piece?" Kurt asked, puzzled by Blaine's hesitation. "What of it?"

"I wondered if...Kurt, did you sing it for me?"

This was, Kurt thought, a trap. Blaine wanted to know if he was obligated to refuse Kurt again, to remind him that he cared for him only as a friend. He was plainly embarrassed by the prospect and Kurt felt no desire to hear those words again. "I sing for my own pleasure," he answered. "Though I certainly hope that you enjoyed my performance."

"You have a beautiful voice," Blaine said. "I had not realized how beautiful. You sang with great feeling."

"You are too kind," Kurt replied. He felt his singing did merit such praise, but still it was gratifying to be complimented. "I am sorry that you were not able to sing. Does your burn still pain you today?"

"I was not burned."

Blaine offered no further explanation for this remark. He busied himself with pouring another cup of tea. If the conversation was to continue, it appeared that Kurt must be the one to speak.

"Since we are asking each other questions," he said. "May I ask whether you really intended to duel that Captain Karofsky?"

"He would have backed down. Bullies generally do, if you show yourself willing to fight."

"And if he had not?"

"Then yes, I would have dueled with him."

"Blaine!" cried Kurt. "Dueling is a crime!"

"My father would have protected me." Blaine laughed, a bitter sound with no mirth in it. "I rather think he would have been pleased to do so. At least it would have been an offense he could take pride in."

"You might have been killed."

"I am not a brute. It would have been only to first blood."

"Even so, you might have died of your wound."

"I see you are determined that I should pay for my temper with my life," Blaine said. "Well, I cannot think it a great loss. Few would mourn me. All who ever loved me are dead."

"All you would allow to love you," Kurt retorted. He did not wish to quarrel again, but this was too much to be borne. "If I were as handsome as Mr. Evans I suppose you would think me worth living for."

"Kurt, I told you—"

"I have not forgotten. You told me that you wanted only my friendship." Kurt felt his neck growing warm beneath his collar and realized that he _did_ wish to quarrel. Blaine was right that they had little opportunity to speak privately, and if Kurt let this one slip away he could not expect to have another. In a few days he would return to Lima. He wanted to part on good terms, but not so much as he wanted to speak his mind. "Now you tell me what, that you mean to die for lack of love? You at least have known a lover! What chance of that have I? You have refused me. You would rather be killed!"

After this outburst, Kurt would not have been surprised if Blaine had replied with similar vehemence. He did not. Instead he said, in a flat and quiet voice, "I was trying to protect you."

"By refusing me, or by dueling for me?"

"Both," Blaine said. "And you are wrong about me. I never had a lover."

"You told me you had."

Blaine shook his head. "Jeremiah did not love me."

Kurt thought of Miss Cohen-Chang's French novel, and how the wicked Valmont had schemed his way into Cecile's bed. "You mean he...seduced you?"

"No, though he would have found me a willing enough victim. He was guilty of nothing more than kindness to me. The rest was my own madness." Blaine sighed and ran a hand through his dark curls. "I should have told you all this before. I meant to, but the time never seemed right. I am afraid it is not a pleasant story."

Kurt already had some idea of how the story would end. Blaine had told him, that day on Beechen Cliff, that Jeremiah had been ruined. "If you do not wish to speak of it—"

"I would rather speak of anything else, yet it is a tale that must be told." Blaine took a long drink from his cup and replaced it carefully on its saucer. "You cannot imagine how happy I was to enter Oxford," he said. "I was free of Eton forever, and hoped I would soon be free of Dalton Abbey. I was the second son and I would have to make my own way in the world. I told everyone that I intended to take up law, to be a London barrister, and perhaps I would have done so. Yet my fondest hope was that once I had finished my studies I might persuade my father to send me on the Grand Tour."

"You were eager to see the Continent?"

"I was eager to get away," said Blaine. "I did not plan to return. I was full of romantic ideas about supporting myself as a singer. I was not afraid of poverty. I wanted to live freely, to love freely. I only needed someone to love me in return.

"I met Jeremiah at the beginning of Hilary Term my second year. He was a year older than me, and I was captivated by him immediately. He was so beautiful. More than that, he had the gentlest manner of any man I had ever known. I followed him around like a puppy. He humored me, listened patiently to me when I tried to impress him with my learning. I took this to mean that he cared for me. Indeed I thought he must welcome my attentions. I had been at university long enough to form a good opinion of myself. I was doing well in my studies. My singing was much admired. I had been named the champion in a fencing competition. I was the son of a baron!" Again Blaine laughed that sharp, ugly laugh. "Only a younger son, but Jeremiah's father was not even a gentleman. He was in trade, a fabric merchant. Jeremiah meant to go into the Church. He was almost finished with his studies. He might have had a quiet, respectable life, if not for me."

Blaine stared down at the table. Kurt could see that he was struggling to maintain his composure. "On the eve of St. Valentine's Day I stayed up all night so that I might be standing outside his window before dawn. When I saw a light in his room I threw pebbles up at the window until he came to open it. Then I...I began to serenade him with a love song. I had been drinking to keep myself warm, though that is hardly an excuse. He came running out in his dressing gown and I told him that I loved him, that I wanted him to come with me to Paris, to Geneva, to Venice, that we would be so happy together.

"He begged me to be quiet, but it was too late. I had awakened his neighbors." Blaine paused again and cleared his throat. "I was a fencer, not a boxer. I was little use in a fistfight. Not against three other men. It ended badly for us. Once we were released from the infirmary, we were both sent down."

Kurt had dreaded hearing of violence, but it was the response of the university that shocked him. "You were expelled for being attacked?"

"We were expelled for lewd behavior. It was no secret that I was besotted with Jeremiah. We had been found together on St. Valentine's Day, him in his nightclothes and me proclaiming my love for him. My father wanted to bring charges against him for corrupting me. As if worse did not happen at Eton any day of the week! I swore that Jeremiah had never touched me, but it was my brother who finally talked our father out of it. Cooper had been a great mischief-maker in his student days. He said it all sounded like a prank gone wrong and that making a case of it would only cause a bigger scandal. He said the Vice-Chancellor would probably let me return the following year, if I made an apology and father made a donation. So that is what we did."

"And what of Jeremiah?"

"His father had neither title nor fortune. He did not return to Oxford. I never saw him again. My brother was thrown from his horse that same autumn. Cooper had secured my education for me, so I applied myself to my studies even though I no longer had any hope of escape. I will be the next Lord Dalton, whether I would or no."

Many of Blaine's previous remarks about himself, and about love, were now made clearer to Kurt. His friend had suffered loss, but he suffered more from guilt. Kurt was touched with pity for him, yet doubted that Blaine had shared this painful history out of desire for sympathy. No, it had been meant as a warning.

"You tell me this so that I will not love you," Kurt said. "So that I will not damage your reputation, your family name."

"I tell you this because you deserve to know the truth. It is right that you should know what I have done, so that you may fairly judge what else I have to say." Blaine leaned forward and pressed Kurt's hand. "Kurt, when I heard you sing yesterday, I felt for the first time in a long time that perhaps my fate could change. That perhaps it was not too late for me."

His voice was so full of emotion that it was tempting to believe that he felt more than admiration for Kurt's singing. Kurt had to remind himself that he had been mistaken before. This was not the first time Blaine had held his hand, spoken sweet words to him, or given him tender looks.

"I cannot make you any promises, Kurt," Blaine continued. "So I will ask none of you. I will only say that I...I hope to hear you sing again someday. Because listening to you, I felt that I had finally found the other half of my heart."

Any doubts that remained after this speech were soon vanquished. Blaine raised his hand to brush Kurt's cheek and asked "Would you be very offended if I kissed you?"

"I will be very offended," Kurt said, his heart racing. "If you do not."

Blaine leaned towards him, his hand warm against Kurt's cheek. He hesitated for a moment, studying Kurt's face. Without a word, Kurt reached up to draw him closer. His eyes flickered shut as their lips met at last in a long, lingering kiss.


	32. A Private Conversation Continued

**Author's Note:** I hope I haven't lost too many readers over this long period without any updates. I pushed myself to get the last chapter finished when I did because I knew I was going to be very busy at work and wouldn't have much energy for writing. Then when things did slow down a bit, I found myself suffering from writer's block. Were this actually a Jane Austen novel there would probably only be a few chapters left, but in a Jane Austen novel the two main characters would be free to marry soon after confessing their true feelings for one another. Since Kurt and Blaine cannot marry, their story cannot end so neatly – as Blaine himself is painfully aware. I do have a plan for the last portion of this story, but dealing with the transition into that last stage has been more difficult than I expected. This will be a short chapter, more mood than plot, although the next one should move things forward quite a bit. I will try my best not to take as long in writing it as I have with this one!

During my hiatus I have been searching for _Glee_ fanart featuring Regency costumes, and wanted to link to a couple of pieces here. These aren't fanart for _Glee and Glory_, I just like them. :)

shainareads dot tumblr dot com/post/14593951352/happy-late-birthday-claire-d- here-is-regency

rocketssurgery dot tumblr dot com/post/38073781315/woah-had-to-draw-kurt-in-this -outfit

holawar dot deviantart dot com/art/Regency-307510619

And now it's history time! There's a reference to the London Season in this chapter, a term that should be familiar to those of you who read Regency and Victorian novels but that I'll explain for anyone who does not. The London social season began with the opening of Parliament soon after Christmas and extended into the summer. The Season was particularly important for young people looking for suitable marriage partners. Debutantes were presented at court at the beginning of the Season, and the balls, concerts, parties, and sporting events held in and around London gave them many opportunities to meet and mingle with eligible bachelors.

Another minor historic note involves the mail system. Postage was paid by the recipient when the letter was delivered, not by the sender. This comes up in _Mansfield Park_, when Fanny wants to write to her brother but worries he won't be able to afford to accept the letter.

* * *

><p>Having discovered such a pleasant means of expressing their feelings, Kurt and Blaine did not immediately resume their conversation. Between their kisses they uttered nothing more than those gentle murmurs and sighs as hold sense only for lovers. Had their circumstances been different, they might have continued in this fashion for quite some time. As things were, their happiness could not long remain untainted by other concerns.<p>

"Dearest," Blaine began.

Kurt cocked his head to one side. "Am I?" he asked.

Blaine blinked. "Are you what?"

"Am I your dearest?"

"There is none other." Blaine took Kurt's hand, and for the first time Kurt did not need to wonder what this gesture signified. "No one else but you. Do you mind that I should call you so?"

"I do not mind at all," Kurt said, blushing. He ran his thumb lightly over Blaine's knuckles. "What am I to call you?"

"Your darling, if you wish to be kind," Blaine said. "A fool and a madman, if you wish to be accurate."

"Darling, then, though I suppose it _is_ foolish and mad that you should care for me."

"Foolish only that it took me so long to see that I was mad for you." Blaine turned his hand and threaded his fingers through Kurt's, locking them together. "We have such a short time left together. I am to blame for that, but what I wanted to ask, dearest of my heart, was if you thought your father might be persuaded to extend your stay in Bath."

Kurt shook his head sadly. "We came for six weeks only."

"Would your family not enjoy a longer holiday? Even to the end of the month would give us a week more. There are many things we might do in a week."

"Papa must attend to our estate in Lima," Kurt replied. He did not like to say that the Hummels could not afford a longer holiday. "I do not want to leave you, darling, but there is nothing to be done for it."

"Then could he spare you for a little while? My father means for us to remain in Bath another month or so. We'll go to London for the Season, but you might stay here with me until then."

Tempting as this offer was, Kurt knew he must refuse it. "I cannot miss Finley's wedding. I am sorry, Blaine."

"You need not apologize. It was another of my mad ideas." Blaine sighed. "I was imagining myself alone with you, but Father will return from Wincanton tomorrow. I could not sit with you like this if he were in the house."

"Is he such a strict chaperone? We are both grown men."

"Precisely," said Blaine. "He does not trust me, Kurt. He blames Jeremiah for what happened at Oxford, but it was proof enough that I am prone to so-called unnatural lusts. Were he to catch us in an embrace, I could not expect to persuade him that it meant only friendship. He would send you away and forbid me from seeing you again."

"Do you intend to see me again?" Kurt asked. He had not forgotten how Blaine had said they had no future together. Even today he had spoken only of extending their current holiday, not meeting at some later date.

"I would see you every day, if I could," Blaine said. "But I have other duties that must take precedence, regardless of my wishes. You understand that, don't you? Please say you understand."

"I understand," said Kurt. "That day at Molland's, when we quarreled, you thought I did not see how things must be. I do. I know we cannot be together always. I only wondered if we might meet again, someday."

"Perhaps we will," Blaine said. "I would like to."

"You could visit me in Lima, after the Season."

"Perhaps," Blaine said again. He did not sound at all certain.

"Even if we cannot meet for a very long time, we can still write to one another. I never had anyone to write to before."

A pained expression overspread Blaine's features. He pulled his hand away from Kurt's and said "I do not think that is a good idea."

"Why not?" Kurt asked, much surprised by Blaine's reaction. "A man might write to his friend, surely there is no scandal in that."

"Not unless our letters should be read by another." Blaine rubbed his brow, though it remained furrowed with anxiety. "We could not even claim a misunderstanding, not with words written in our own hand and fixed on the page for anyone to see. Men have been hanged on the evidence of a letter. It is too dangerous."

"You make too much of this," Kurt said. He knew this now for one of Blaine's moods. "Yes, we must be careful, but we are free to choose our own words. We need not write anything that we would be ashamed of."

"I am not ashamed of my feelings for you. Do not think it, I beg you."

"Yet you will not say when next we might meet, and wish to receive no word from me at all in the meantime."

"What I wish has nothing to do with it!" Blaine took up Kurt's hand again and pressed it most tenderly between his own. "Dearest, if I could write you everything that is in my heart then I would make my stationer a wealthy man. You would be forced to choose between your tailor and the postman, for you could not possibly keep up such an elegant appearance while paying for a daily flood of letters."

Pretty as this speech was, Kurt was not entirely mollified. "I could easily afford to receive a letter each month, if someone were to send me one."

"A letter full of empty pleasantries, with no truth in it. Would you truly wish to receive such a thing? I would not."

"I would treasure a letter about your aunt's health and the changes in the weather, if it were from you," Kurt said. "I will not write if you do not wish me to, but if this is to be only a Bath romance then please tell me so. I will not be angry, I swear it. I only want to know if the few days I have left with you are all that will ever be, or if I may hope for more in the future."

"I cannot tell you to give up hope," said Blaine, his voice grown low and hoarse.

"Shall I take that to mean that you will come to visit me?"

Blaine did not answer at once. He bowed his head and looked down at their hands, still clasped together. "I will try," he said at last. He looked up at Kurt, his eyes shining with unshed tears. "It is not much of a vow, but I can offer you none better. I will try to find a way for us to be together, even if it is only for a little while."

Kurt leaned closer and laid his head upon Blaine's shoulder. "Then when we must part, I will not say goodbye to you," he whispered. "Only _au revoir_, my darling, for we will see each other again."


	33. A Souvenir of Bath

**Author's Note: **Okay, so I haven't been that good about the whole updating more frequently thing. But I'm back with a new installment that I hope you will all enjoy! With this chapter I've also passed 75,000 words on this story, which is amazing to me because I originally thought it would be about half that length. At this point I'm estimating that the whole thing will be more like 100,000 words.

I mention in this chapter the bluebells that grow in the New Forest. This was inspired in part by a bit of dialogue from _Glee_ that I'm sure most of you will remember (Kurt maybe has a thing about fields of flowers...), and in part by the film _Bright Star_ (2009). _Bright Star_ is about the ill-fated romance between John Keats and Fanny Brawne. It's set at almost the same time as this story – Keats and Brawne first met in November 1818 – and features some lovely scenes of bluebells in bloom. I did not see this film until I was already well into this story, and was amused to learn that Fanny Brawne, like Kurt, had a passion for fashion and designed her own clothes.

Speaking of fashion, I also mention ornamental toothpick cases. In _Sense and Sensibility_ Elinor first encounters Robert Ferrars, the biggest fop in all of Austen, when she's stuck behind him in line at a jewelry store where he's taking his sweet time ordering a custom-made ivory, gold, and pearl toothpick case. As Kurt points out, he's not quite as bad as that.

The specific objects I describe were inspired by items I found on the Christie's website. I just discovered that it's possible to find photos there of different antiques that have come up for auction.

* * *

><p>The weather turned colder overnight. Though the temperature was not unusual for the time of year, the season had been so mild that this seemed nature's first reminder that winter was coming. Kurt slept poorly, kept awake by the chill and by thoughts of how warm Blaine's lips had felt against his own.<p>

He did not know when they might next be able to enjoy such intimacy. They met at Molland's as usual the following day, but had nowhere private to go afterward. Blaine was not certain what time his father would return from Wincanton and was unwilling to risk being surprised by him. Although Mr. Hummel had gone to the baths and Finley was visiting Miss Fabray, Mrs. Hummel had announced her intention to spend the afternoon packing for the family's departure on Monday.

"Have you finished _your_ packing yet?" Blaine asked, smiling at Kurt over his mug of coffee.

"I have made a good beginning of it." He had set aside the trousers and jackets he planned to wear over the next few days and packed the rest, though he had not yet decided about his accessories.

"Well, they say a good beginning makes a good ending."

"I hope that is true," said Kurt. "My stay here in Bath had quite a good beginning."

"Indeed?"

"I purchased a lovely blue paisley cravat at a shop not far from here."

"An auspicious start, to be sure."

"Then on my way back to my lodgings I happened to meet a rather agreeable gentleman, though I did not think to ask for his card."

"You should not have had to ask," said Blaine. "This gentleman, if he even deserves that title, was an oaf for not offering you one. I know the type. Probably fresh from Oxford and thinking he knew everything. You were kind to tolerate his company."

"I must confess that I am not as good natured as you think. I cannot long endure company that I do not enjoy. I was glad to find him such a pleasant companion; otherwise I might have been forced to jump into the river to make my escape. I can only imagine what he thought of me, fresh from the country and lost already."

Blaine seemed about to make some reply, but checked himself. Instead of speaking he brushed his fingers across the back of Kurt's wrist and then quickly took up his mug again. "When we are done here would you like to go look in the shops, or is it too cold for that?"

Kurt placed his napkin on the table. "My dear fellow, it is _never_ too cold for shopping. Although I fear it must be window shopping for me, I have little spending money left."

As they walked through the streets, arms linked together, Kurt was suddenly reminded of the day he had passed this way with Miss Fabray on his arm. He had felt then that his fair companion was much admired by other men. The well-wrapped ladies they passed today did not gaze so openly, but Kurt sensed that he and Blaine were attracting similar attention. Or rather, Blaine was. Although he was both the more elegantly dressed and the taller of the two, Kurt did not flatter himself that an appraising eye would linger long on him when Blaine was near.

He did not mind it. As much as Kurt enjoyed being admired in public, it was a mere shadow of the joy he took in the private knowledge that he was Blaine's sweetheart. The young ladies of Bath might peek out at him from beneath their bonnets, wondering who that handsome gentleman with the curly hair and fine dark eyes might be, but Kurt knew that Blaine cared nothing for them. He had chosen Kurt. He had kissed him and called him dearest. They must part soon, but not for long. Blaine had promised to visit Lima in the spring.

Had promised to try at least, and Kurt could think of no reason why he should not be able to do so. Blaine had completed his education, had no profession, and Lord Dalton seemed unlikely to object to his son visiting a friend in the country. Kurt hoped that it would be a long visit. He hoped that Blaine would be there for the bluebell season. He would take him into the forest and show him where they grew. Perhaps they would lie down together among the sweet-smelling blossoms. Perhaps they would kiss. There would be no one to see them but the birds and the deer. They might kiss until they were dizzy from it, until the bluebells seemed to dance around them, until the sun no longer shone down on them through the trees and they had to make their way home by the light of the moon.

"You are very quiet," said Blaine. "What are you thinking of?"

"Nothing," Kurt replied. "Only daydreaming."

This was not the first time Kurt had kept his thoughts from Blaine. For much of the time they had known each other he had held back his feelings for fear of losing the other man's friendship. That fear was gone, but in its place was an even greater fear – the fear of exposure. He had thought Blaine overanxious when he had said they could not write to one another, but they had been alone then. Standing on the crowded street, Kurt felt suddenly aware of how dangerous an unguarded word might be.

Just two days before, there had been nothing for Kurt to hide except his own thoughts. He and Blaine had been in truth no more than friends, and to merely wish otherwise was not a crime. A man was free to think about whatever he liked, no matter how strange or shocking. Yet though his fondest wish had come true, he still could not speak openly when others might hear. He could not say to Blaine, as even the most modest of maidens might say to her beau, "I was thinking of you."

They stopped to peer in the window of a jeweler's shop, then stepped back to regard their reflections. "Do you want to know what I was thinking?" asked Blaine, addressing Kurt's mirrored image.

"Certainly, if you wish to tell me."

"I was thinking that I ought to buy you a present. A souvenir of Bath, so you will not forget your time here."

"I will not forget," Kurt said earnestly. "Not as long as I live."

"Still, it would please me to know that you had some reminder of your holiday."

"You will remind me of it, when you come to see me."

Kurt saw the reflected Blaine lower his eyes. "It may be a long wait for you."

"It will seem like a long time," Kurt agreed. He was unsettled by Blaine's emphasis on their absence from one another rather than their reunion in the spring, but it was kind of Blaine to be so concerned about him. "Really it is only a few months, though. I will endure it. You do not need to buy me anything."

Blaine looked at him again in the window for a moment before turning to face him directly. "Come, I know you enjoy fine things. Will you not allow me to be generous? You may choose something small, if you are concerned about the cost. That toothpick case there, do you like it?" He pointed to a mother-of-pearl inlaid case displayed in the window.

"It is a pretty thing, but I hope you do not think me such a dandy that I require a toothpick case."

"What about a card case, then? In addition to reminding you of Bath, it may also remind you of the importance of proper etiquette. You must learn from my mistakes. I nearly missed out on a very dear friendship because I did not think to offer my address."

Kurt smiled at this, but said "I make little use of the card case I already own. You forget I live in the country, where my address is already known to everyone I am likely to meet."

"I see you are determined to argue with me." Blaine tugged playfully at the end of Kurt's scarf. "Yet you have underestimated my cunning. I have thought of an item that is both elegant and practical for any gentleman, city or country. You will make use of it every day, indeed many times each day, and be reminded of me each time."

"What is this wonder of which you speak?"

"A pocketwatch," Blaine declared triumphantly. "You cannot possibly object to such a useful ornament as that. Admit that you are defeated and come inside with me."

"Very well, I am persuaded," Kurt said. "Am I to choose my own souvenir, or is it to be a surprise?"

"You may pick out whichever watch you like best. The inscription will be a surprise."

They proceeded into the shop. After spending nearly half an hour inspecting the various pocketwatches available, Kurt settled upon a hunter case with a blue enameled design on the lid. He then occupied himself with examining a set of cameos while Blaine spoke to the clerk about the engraving.

"It will be ready tomorrow afternoon," Blaine explained to Kurt once the arrangements had been made. "I can collect it on my way to call on you."

Kurt hoped they would have some opportunity to be alone together. The following day was Saturday, and the Hummels were set to leave Bath at first light Monday morning. Pleased as he was with the watch he had chosen, Kurt would have preferred to the gift of more time with Blaine to an instrument for measuring the few hours that remained to them.


	34. The Invitation

**Author's Note: **I've been revising this chapter for a few days now, but decided to push myself to get it posted tonight in honor of the US Supreme Court's decision to overturn the federal same-sex marriage ban. Happy end of DOMA day!

_(Edited to add: In my hurry to get this up before midnight, I posted this chapter before polishing the ending. I have since rewritten the last few paragraphs and fixed a couple of other minor issues in the text.)_

I know the plot of this story has been moving pretty slowly, but as you'll see that's in part because I've been laying the foundation for the events of this chapter. There will be no astonishing plot twists, at least not at present, but this chapter is a major turning point for the story.

There's only a little history in this installment. Curricles and cabriolets were different types of two-wheeled carriages. Since they were small and fast, they were particularly popular with young men. As can be seen in _Northanger Abbey_, they were talked about in much the same way that sports cars are talked about today. Clotho, Lachesis, and Atropos are mentioned in passing; these were the three Moirai or Fates of Greek mythology. Lovelace is Robert Lovelace, the villain of the popular Samuel Richardson novel _Clarissa_. His name was used as a slang term for libertines and predatory womanizers.

Blaine's canonical middle name is "Devon", but as far as I can tell this was not used as a given name until the mid-20th century. That's why 1818!Blaine feels it requires an explanation when his full name comes up in this chapter. Incidentally, during this period middle names were not as common as they are now. A Jane Austen trivia question I've seen that's really a trick question is "What was Jane Austen's middle name?" The correct answer is that she didn't have one!

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><p>Kurt was not surprised when he heard Finley shouted from the landing that he had company, as he had been expecting Blaine to call. However, he was rather surprised to discover that his friend had not come alone. Kurt entered the drawing room to find Lord Dalton sitting with Blaine and Mr. Hummel.<p>

After his son had exchanged greetings with the two visitors, Mr. Hummel explained the purpose of the call. "Kurt, Lord Dalton and Mr. Anderson have come to invite you to visit them at home."

"How kind of you," Kurt said. He was flattered by the invitation, though he wondered why Blaine had given him no hint of it the day before. He hoped it was being offered in addition to, not instead of, Blaine's planned visit to Lima. "I would be delighted to see Dalton Abbey, if you are sure it would not be any trouble. When would you like me to come?"

"Right away," said Blaine. "We are to leave the day after tomorrow."

"What, so soon?" Kurt asked. "I thought you were to remain in Bath until next month."

"That had been my plan, but duty calls me to London," said Lord Dalton. "I must attend the Queen's funeral. Blaine prefers to remain at home." He turned to Kurt's father and said "I fear my son is too much alone at Dalton Abbey. We are rather isolated, and he has few companions his own age. I would be grateful to know that he is with young Mr. Hummel. Blaine will join me in London for the Season, but your son is welcome to stay until then."

"What do you say, Kurt?" asked Mr. Hummel. "Your stepmother and I will want you home for Christmas, but I think we might manage without you until then."

"Oh, but the wedding!" Kurt exclaimed. "I cannot miss the wedding. And what if Miss Fabray wants me beforehand?"

"You need not worry about that," Finley said. "Lady Susan is going to London as well, and Miss Fabray will accompany her. She means to purchase a few more things for her tableau."

"Trousseau," Kurt corrected automatically. He would have thought that Miss Fabray's bottom drawer must be already well stocked with the linens she would need to begin married life, but he could well understand her desire to see the shops of London. He might have wished to accompany her himself, if not for the prospect of spending more time with Blaine.

_Alone_ with Blaine. His heart beat faster at the thought. Blaine had promised to find a way for them to spend more time with one another, but Kurt had not expected him to succeed so soon. With Lord Dalton in London they would have hour after hour together, free from interruption. Though Kurt still hoped he would have the opportunity to show Blaine the bluebells of Lima in May, there must be many things Blaine could show him at Dalton Abbey in December.

Kurt wondered again why Blaine had not told him of his plan, and had instead spoken so much of their parting. Perhaps Blaine had meant to mislead him in order to make the invitation a surprise. Though such a deception might be well-intentioned, Kurt would rather have been told the truth.

"I still do not like this plan of holding the wedding before Christmas," Mr. Hummel was saying to Finley. Kurt realized that he had allowed himself to become distracted from the conversation. Thankfully no one seemed to have noticed. "While I have no wish to delay your happiness, surely it is wiser to wait until after your promotion."

"That is what I told Miss Fabray, but she has her heart set on it." Finley shrugged, clearly uninterested in further discussion of his wedding date. "In any event, we cannot marry until the banns are read. You might visit with Mr. Anderson a fortnight or so and be home again in plenty of time."

"The journey from Dalton Abbey could be made in a day, if your family has need of you before then," added Lord Dalton.

"Please say you will come," Blaine said. "We will have such a good time together."

"I am sure we will," Kurt said. "Is it really all right, Papa?"

"We will miss you, but I confess I have been wondering how we will make it home with all of your luggage," said Mr. Hummel with a twinkle in his eye. "I was afraid I might be forced to hire a second carriage."

"My father likes to tease me," Kurt explained to their guests.

"Indeed I do," said Mr. Hummel. "I shall miss that most of all while you are gone, but a man must sacrifice for the sake of his children. Mr. Anderson, please be sure to make sport of my son at least once a day, or else he will be out of practice when you return him to us."

"Papa!"

"He will doubtless have greater cause to make sport of me, but I will do my best to look after him for you," said Blaine.

"It sounds like everything is settled, then." Lord Dalton rose from his seat. "I have other business I must attend to today, but please give my regards to Mrs. Hummel. We will call for young Mr. Hummel early Monday morning. Do not worry about your baggage, my coach is a large one and we have my son's curricle as well." He shook hands with Mr. Hummel and bid them all good day.

Kurt hoped that his father and stepbrother would soon find reason to leave the room as well. Though he normally enjoyed the company of his family, he was desperate to speak to Blaine alone. Instead Mr. Hummel took up _The Times_ while Finley questioned Blaine about how his curricle was equipped and how fast it could go. This soon turned into a discussion of the relative merits of curricles and cabriolets, with Mr. Hummel occasionally looking up from his paper to interject his opinion.

After enduring this as long as he could, Kurt finally said "Mr. Anderson, I have just remembered I still have that book you lent me."

"That is quite all right, I have not needed it," Blaine said.

"Still, I had better return it to you now. I would not want to leave it here or have it packed off to Lima by mistake."

"As you like."

"Perhaps you could come upstairs and help me find it," Kurt said meaningfully.

"Oh! Yes, certainly." Blaine rose and followed Kurt to his room.

Once they were behind closed doors, Kurt said "I must say, you are rather slow to take a hint. Or was all that talk of carriages really so fascinating to you?"

"Carriages can be quite interesting," said Blaine, taking Kurt's hand. He stroked the inside of Kurt's wrist with his fingertips. "Though I can easily think of one or two other matters of greater interest to me right now."

"You are wicked," Kurt whispered. He pulled his hand away and turned to peek out through the keyhole. Though he saw no one in the hallway, he put the key in the lock for safety's sake.

"I am a fiend." Blaine settled himself on the edge of Kurt's bed. "And you are an angel. Come sit with me and teach me to be good."

"I should teach you not to keep secrets from me," Kurt said. He sat down beside Blaine, close enough that their knees touched. "Why did you not tell me yesterday that you planned to invite me to Dalton Abbey?"

"I had no notion of it at the time."

"The idea came to you over breakfast?"

"No, it was not my doing at all."

"Whose was it, then?" Kurt asked. He was beginning to find Blaine's evasiveness tiring.

Blaine smiled. "It was fate."

"Was it indeed?"

"We were not meant to part so soon." He took Kurt's hand again. "You do want to come and stay with me, don't you?"

"Of course I do, darling." Kurt wanted to spend as much time with Blaine as possible, but he did not like all this talk of fate. He wanted Blaine to love him, to plan a future with him, not for them to be thrown together and torn apart by the whim of fortune. "I only wanted to know how it was all decided so suddenly. Do not tell me it was fate again, I want a proper answer."

"It was entirely my father's idea. He is convinced that you are a positive influence and that we ought to spend as much time together as possible. If you will not credit that to fate then you must instead thank Mrs. Rhodes, Lady Susan, and a filly called Queen Mab."

"Otherwise known as Clotho, Lachesis, and Atropos, I suppose. What had they to do with it?"

"Lady Susan has spoken highly of you, or as highly as she speaks of anyone, I gather. She told Father that while you may look a dandy you are the only young man in Lima who isn't intolerably stupid. After the horse she recommended to my father won at Wincanton, he is even more inclined to trust her judgment than before."

"What of Mrs. Rhodes?" Kurt asked. "I had not realized she was acquainted with your father."

"He met her only this morning. We went to take the water at the Pump Room, and she was there with Miss Pierce and Miss Lopez. Miss Pierce waved to us and then they all came over to our table. Mrs. Rhodes made a great fuss over me and said how pleased she was that her niece had met such a charming young gentleman." Blaine smiled sheepishly. "She asked after you as well, and was disappointed to hear that we were both to leave Bath before the next public ball. She'd hoped that we might escort Miss Pierce and Miss Lopez. She went on at some length about how difficult it is for young ladies to meet suitable gentlemen these days, and really I think Miss Lopez grew quite annoyed with her, but my father was so pleased that he told me we ought to invite you to Dalton Abbey." Blaine paused for breath after this speech, then added "As I said, it was fate."

"I would not have thought your father so easily influenced by new acquaintances."

"Mrs. Rhodes is such a very..._female_ sort of woman that Father could not help being impressed by her opinion of you."

"Does he value women's judgment so highly?"

"He does on matters where a woman is in the best position to judge." Blaine smiled and said "Father believes, my dearest one, that you are something of a ladykiller."

"What, a Lovelace?" Kurt asked, astonished.

"Lady Susan would hardly trust a Lovelace to escort her goddaughter," said Blaine. "Nor would my father encourage a friendship with such a man. No, I think he sees you more as a sort of butterfly who admires flowers of every shape and color and cannot decide which he likes best. Do not be offended," he said, seeing Kurt's expression. "My brother was much the same way. A great flirt, but there was no harm in him. Father would be delighted to see me so transformed. He must be hoping that if we are left together long enough then I will learn to follow your example."

"So I am to tutor you in the art of swaining," said Kurt. "I fear Lord Dalton will be disappointed in my results."

"He is already delighted with the progress I've made. You have introduced me to no less than four eligible young ladies and persuaded me to spend more time at balls and private parties in one month than I had all year." Blaine leaned closer, until his lips were nearly touching Kurt's ear. "I dare say my skill at osculation has improved as well," he whispered, his breath hot against Kurt's skin. "Though I could no doubt benefit from further instruction."

"I hardly think a single afternoon's practice could produce much improvement," Kurt said in as haughty a tone as he could muster. It was kind of Blaine to allow him to play this role, to pretend that he was in control, when the mere thought of their first kiss made him tremble inside.

"Were you not pleased by my performance?"

"You are a talented beginner." Kurt licked his lips. "A _very_ talented beginner. But if you wish me to judge your progress, I will need a fresh demonstration."

Blaine was happy to oblige. He cupped Kurt's face in his hands and pressed upon him a deep kiss. If Blaine was not yet master of this gentle art, his skill was still sufficient to produce in Kurt a shock of pleasure so intense that it was almost frightening.

When at last their lips parted, Blaine tilted his head back and asked "How was that?"

"Remarkable," Kurt breathed. "Though I hope my praise will not lead you to neglect your practice."

"I am a diligent student. We will practice together every day that you are with me. I fear we can do no more today, however, lest your father wonder what is keeping us." He rose from the bed and straightened his jacket. "Do you have the book?"

Kurt retrieved the volume of poetry from beneath his pillow. "I have something for you as well," Blaine said, reaching inside his breast pocket. He pulled out a small parcel and handed it to Kurt, taking the book from him in return. "There are two inscriptions on it. One on the outside, for the world, and one on the inside, for you."

Kurt tore away the wrapping paper and opened the box. He turned over the pocketwatch to read the first message. Engraved on the back were the words "To Kurt Hummel, with many fond memories of Bath, from B.D.A. Nov. 1818"

"Is the 'D' for Dalton?" Kurt asked.

"Devon," Blaine said. "We lived near Plymouth when I was a boy. My father was away at sea much of the time and we had no relations nearby. My mother had no family in England at all, except for us. She wanted me to feel a connection to our home through my name if not our history, so she named me for the county. Had we been at Dalton Abbey at that time she might have called me Blaine Dalton instead, but I do not think a different name would have helped me to feel at home there." Blaine sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "I ought to have asked your middle name, so it could have been included in the inscription."

"I do not have one," said Kurt. "I sometimes use an 'E', in honor of my mother. Her name was Elizabeth." He turned the watch over again and opened the cover to see what message was hidden inside. The inscription was the line that Blaine had spoken the day they met, the opening line of the book that Kurt had just returned to him: "A thing of beauty is a joy forever."

"An inscription can never truly be private," Blaine said. "But anyone else who reads it will think it refers to the watch itself. Only we will know that I mean you, my dearest, and what we have together." He continued the Keats quotation in a soft, low voice. "'Its loveliness increases. It will never pass into nothingness.' It is a small thing to symbolize my feelings, but—"

"I love it." Kurt threw his arms around Blaine's shoulders, marveling as he did at how easily their bodies fit together in an embrace. The difference in their height was just enough to allow Blaine's chin to rest on Kurt's shoulder. His arms wrapped around Kurt's back as naturally as if they'd been designed for that purpose. How different this was from the kiss they had shared a moment before. Instead of trembling with excitement, Kurt grew calm. He could feel the gentle rise and fall of Blaine's chest as he breathed, could almost fancy he could feel the steady beat of Blaine's heart. All his doubts were forgotten. They belonged together, surely they belonged together.

The silence was shattered by the sound of Finley's voice. "Kurt!"

Blaine sprang back, eyes wide with panic. Kurt gestured for him to keep quiet. "Yes, what is it?" he called back. For once he was glad of his stepbrother's habit of shouting messages from the landing rather than coming to the door. While the lock would have prevented Finley from bursting in upon them, he surely would have wondered why the door was locked at all.

"Mother wants to know if Mr. Anderson will be staying for tea!"

Blaine nodded at Kurt, who called back "He says he will, thank you! We'll be right down!" In a quieter voice he said to Blaine "I do apologize for that."

"There is no need to apologize. Your family is charming. I would not wish to keep you from them now, as they are soon to be deprived of your company while I am to have you all to myself." He squeezed Kurt's shoulder and smiled. "We'll have time enough together then. A fortnight, at least."

"I do not think that long enough."

"Nor I, but it is more than I would have dared hope for yesterday."

"If you are right and we are now the favorites of fate, we might as well hope for everything," Kurt said. "They say that fortune favors the bold." He turned to unlock the door. "Come, we had best go downstairs before they send the cavalry to find us."


	35. A Sunday Call

**Author's Note:** An unexpected problem I had with this chapter was that, in my first draft, a certain character seemed far too meek compared to how she is in canon. I tried to give her a little more spirit in the revision.

My only historic note is a reminder about inheritance law of the time. With very few exceptions, the oldest son inherited his father's entire estate. However, the oldest daughter had no special status; in the absence of a male heir the estate (provided it wasn't entailed) would be divided equally among the daughters. That's why the heroine of _Emma_ isn't worried about money even though she's the younger daughter in her family.

Oh, I also found another cute piece of Regency!Klaine fanart! This wasn't inspired by my story, but directly by _Emma_:

rghema dot tumblr dot com /post/52453432170/ klaine-au-friday-austen-klaine-blaine

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><p>Amidst the preparations for his departure from Bath, Kurt managed to make time for an important call. Fortunately the lady he wished to see was so intimately connected with his family that he might properly call on a Sunday.<p>

"Mr. Hummel, I did not expect to see you today," said Miss Fabray when he entered the drawing room. He was relieved to find her alone. "Is everything all right?"

"Oh yes, we are all quite well," he said. "I only wished to pay my respects before leaving Bath. Finley tells me you will accompany Lady Susan to London."

"I wish it was a happier occasion that brought us there, but I am eager to see the city. I have never been before."

They chatted for a few moments about the famous sights of London, and Kurt extracted a promise that she would tell him all about the shops when next they met. He explained that he had been invited to stay with Mr. Anderson, and likely would not return to Lima until shortly before the wedding.

"I will be back in time though, wild horses could not keep me away," he said. "Even if you were not marrying my brother, I would move heaven and earth to see you in your new gown. Has it been finished yet, or will the shop send it to Lima for you?"

"It was delivered here a few days ago," she said. "Would you like to see it? I think the work is well done, but I had wanted to get your opinion of it."

Kurt readily agreed, and Miss Fabray fetched the parcel from her room. She unwrapped the dress carefully, saying "I have been terrified that I will dirty it or tear it before the wedding. Isn't that silly? I was afraid even to try it on."

"But you did try it on, didn't you?" Kurt asked. "To be certain that it would fit you still?"

"I cannot think what you mean, Mr. Hummel," Miss Fabray said coolly, her lovely face as impassive as a mask. "Look, is the stitching not fine? You can hardly see it."

"I have a keen eye, and see things that others overlook," said Kurt. "There is no need to be coy. We are alone now, and we both know the truth. You are with child."

Kurt had been prepared for denial or tears. He had not been prepared for Miss Fabray to strike him a stinging blow across the face. Judging by her expression, this action surprised the lady herself nearly as much as it did him. "Oh Mr. Hummel, I am so sorry!" she gasped. Only then did she burst into tears. "Please, have pity on me!"

"Miss Fabray, you must control yourself," Kurt said, rubbing his cheek. Though the slap had been painful, the shock had been greater than the injury. "While I am relieved to find you have been keeping your strength up, it cannot be good for you to become so upset." These words had little effect. Miss Fabray's tears were falling faster than she could wipe them away with her hands. "I assure you that I have the utmost sympathy for your condition. I am not a blackmailer, if that is what you are concerned about. Here, do you need a handkerchief?"

She shook her head and produced a handkerchief of her own. She buried her face in it and continued sobbing.

"Are you feeling faint? Should I ring for your maid?" Miss Fabray shook her head again. "Good, I think it is very silly to faint," Kurt said. "It accomplishes nothing and wrinkles the clothes. You are a sensible girl. It will be all right. It will be all right, I assure you."

At last Miss Fabray lifted her head, her tears having slowed from a flood to a mere trickle. "Have you told him?" she whispered. "Does he know?"

"Who, Finley? No, although I have wondered why you have not told him yourself. He could hardly condemn you when he bears half the responsibility."

"It is...complicated." Miss Fabray sighed. "When your brother first spoke to me of marriage, I refused him. We argued and did not speak for several days before we made up again."

Kurt nodded. He had heard this story from Finley, and knew the manner in which the two must have mended their quarrel.

"I am not proud of how I behaved," she continued. "But I love Finley, and I do not wish him to think that I only changed my mind about marriage because of my shame. I did not even realize until after our engagement ball that my moment of weakness would have lasting consequences. And then how could I tell him?" Her voice cracked, and Kurt saw the tears welling up again. "How could I tell him with Miss Berry always looking for opportunities to throw herself in his path? If we argued again, I would lose him to her. I would be ruined."

"Can you think Finley such a dishonorable man?" Kurt asked. "He would never abandon the mother of his child."

"I do not want to marry me out of honor, or p-pity." She blotted at her eyes with her handkerchief. "It must be because he loves me. I could not bear to think that he had chosen me only from a sense of duty, and that he would rather have been with _her_."

"I understand," Kurt said. He understood all too well the desire to be loved, to be chosen not just for the present but the future as well. "While I do not think you give my brother enough credit, it is your announcement to make when you see fit." He hesitated, reluctant to admit that he had already revealed Miss Fabray's secret to someone else, but it had been for her own benefit. "If you are still concerned about Miss Berry, you may put her out of your mind. She has given up her hopes of Finley."

"Has she?" Miss Fabray sniffed. "Did Mr. Anderson turn her head?"

"No," said Kurt. "She was flattered by his attention, but it was not enough to make her forget Finley. I did my best to discourage her, and when she would not listen I...I shared my suspicions about your condition."

"You _what_?" Miss Fabray looked so angry that Kurt feared she might strike him again. "Is the whole world to know?"

"I saw no other way to persuade her," he said, moving to the other end of the couch. "Miss Berry is not a cruel woman, only stubborn and foolish. She would have pursued Finley until your wedding day without regard for her reputation, but she would not have a child suffer just so that she might have her own way."

"Would she not? Miss Berry would do anything to have her own way!"

"Still, she has nothing to gain by betraying you," Kurt said. "She cannot think Finley will cast you off now. Clearly she has said nothing to him about it, and I am certain Miss Jones has no notion of it either. In a months' time it will not matter anyway. You will be married, and you can tell everyone your happy news."

"It is hardly happy." Miss Fabray twisted her damp handkerchief in her hand. "It is punishment for my sin."

"You must not say that. The circumstances are not ideal, but there is nothing to be done about that now. We will all be happy to have a new addition to the family. I meant it when I said that I looked forward to having a little niece or nephew. Which do you think it will be, a boy or a girl?"

"A girl, I hope," she said softly. "I have prayed to God to make it a girl."

"We are of the same mind, then," Kurt said with a smile. "You must allow me to advise you on her frocks. She will be a great beauty, there can be no doubt. I am sure she will also be a great comfort to you while Finley is away. Have you been thinking of names?"

"No. It does not seem right to think of it now. I feel I ought to let Finley decide, though I am not eager to hear what his suggestions will be. He once told me he thought Drizzle a pretty name for a girl."

Kurt had to laugh at this. "Surely he meant Drusilla."

"That is hardly better. Drusilla was a wicked woman." Noting Kurt's puzzled expression, she added "Herod's daughter. I cannot fault you for not remembering her, she hardly deserves it. She abandoned her husband for a Roman governor, the very same who kept Paul imprisoned. She heard his preaching but was unmoved by them. No, my daughter will not be named for such a woman. She must have the name of a good woman, a righteous woman, like Catherine or Elizabeth or Margaret."

"The queens?"

"The saints, Mr. Hummel," Miss Fabray replied primly.

"My mother's name was Elizabeth," Kurt said. "She was a good woman. Not a saint of course, or a queen, more's the pity. Do you remember her, Miss Fabray?"

"A bit. She had very pretty auburn hair, I recall."

"She did. I wish we had a portrait of her, and not only a silhouette. I cannot now picture her face as clearly as I would like. Still, I can remember how she used to play at tea parties with me. I liked to put my toys all around the table in the nursery and pretend they were my guests. My mother would make different voices for them. I like to think I inherited some of her gift in that area. If your daughter proves to be fond of dolls' parties, please ask her to invite her Uncle Kurt."

"I will," said Miss Fabray. "Perhaps someday Uncle Kurt will bring a little cousin to join the party as well."

Kurt shook his head. "Do not expect any cousins from my side of the family. I do not think that I will ever marry."

"Of course you will! Many women would consider themselves lucky to have you for a husband."

"And many would curse their luck within the first year! You are kind to say so, but I would hardly be an ideal husband. I am so particular in my ways. Better that I should remain a bachelor," said Kurt. "That is why I have been thinking that I ought to make Finley's children my heirs."

"No, you must not give up on love after only one holiday in Bath," Miss Fabray insisted. "You will find a wife, I am sure of it."

Kurt did not wish to argue this point with her. "Who knows what the future may bring?" he said. "Yet even if I marry and have a tribe of my own, there will still be room in my heart for my other relations. I hope that my brother will rise quickly through the ranks and that no harm will come to him, but you need not trust to fortune alone. My father and I will help you. We will not allow Finley's wife and children to fall into poverty."

Miss Fabray seemed overcome with emotion. Her face was flushed, and when she spoke her voice trembled. "But Mr. Hummel, he is not—"

"He is not my brother by blood, I know," Kurt said. "That does not mean he is not my family. May it never come to this, but if the worst happens I will consider it not a burden but an honor to do my duty."

"You are very kind," she said. "Kinder than I have any right to expect."

"Nonsense," Kurt said. "I only hope that I have been some comfort to you." Her humble gratitude embarrassed him, for she did not know how little it cost him to promise to provide for her children. He would have none of his own to care for. There would be no bright little girl or quiet little boy to kiss his cheek and call him Papa. But the title of 'uncle' was honor enough for an old bachelor, and Hartfield House would not be sold off to strangers. "I am sure you have much left to do before you leave for London, so I will not keep you from your work any longer. Have a safe journey."

"Safe travels to you as well, Mr. Hummel."


	36. Setting Out

**Author's Note:** The last chapter was my least-reviewed chapter ever, so I can only guess that most of you were incredibly disappointed that it was Blaine-free. I'll just say for now that the last chapter was more important to the plot than it may have seemed. Rest assured that it was the last Blaineless chapter for a while, as Kurt is off to Dalton Abbey.

I had just written a draft of the beginning of this chapter, with Kurt is saying goodbye to his family and worrying about his father's health, when I heard the news that Cory Monteith had died. It was kind of hard to go back and revise/expand that section after that, so it's a bit less polished than would be ideal. It's sad to think that, while I can still write the rest of the Finley storyline I had planned, the _Glee_ writers won't have the same opportunity to finish up their Finn storylines and, worst of all, the real person behind these characters won't get to live out whatever he had planned for the future. RIP Cory, you will be missed.

That said, this will not be a dark chapter. It has a fun little conversation I've wanted to write for some time. _Pride and Prejudice_ fans will notice that Kurt quotes Mr. Darcy on the subject of "fine eyes".

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><p>At last the day came for the Hummel family to quit their lodgings. The house at Pultney Street was bustling with activity well before dawn. Finley and Kurt helped each other carry their trunks downstairs, Finley grumbling that his stepbrother's luggage was much heavier than his own.<p>

"You spend half your time in uniform," Kurt said. "I am a civilian; I need a suit for every occasion."

"Feels more like three suits for every occasion."

The young men loaded everything except Kurt's trunk and bags onto the family's carriage while Mr. and Mrs. Hummel made a final inspection of their lodgings. Once these tasks were completed the family shared a simple morning meal of toast and tea. Kurt was almost too excited to eat. He wound up slipping half his portion onto Finley's plate, though it did not remain there long before it was consumed.

Kurt was still toying with his crusts when Lord Dalton's coach arrived, followed closely by a curricle. The two drivers quickly took charge of Kurt's baggage, leaving him with nothing to do but make his goodbyes. Eager as he had been for this moment, now that it was here he felt a pang of sadness. He had never been separated from his father for more than a few nights. Dalton Abbey was not such a great distance from Lima, but even a few miles might be too much if his father's health took a sudden turn for the worse. Though they had come to Bath for the sake of Mr. Hummel's health, Kurt did not feel confident that the holiday had led to a lasting improvement. As he shook his father's hand, he wondered whether his grip was not weaker than it had been before.

No sooner had this thought crossed his mind than he found his own hand being clasped so tightly that it hurt. He gasped and looked up to see a smile on his father's lips. "See, there's still life in this old dog," Mr. Hummel said, relaxing his grip. "Have a good time, Kurt. We'll see you in a few weeks."

After shaking hands with Finley, allowing himself to be kissed by his stepmother, and extracting a promise from everyone that they would send for him immediately if any crisis arose in Lima, Kurt hurried out to the street. Lord Dalton's driver was waiting to help him into the coach. Kurt turned and waved to his family, still gathered in the doorway. Then he stepped up into the coach, the driver shut the door behind him, and his journey to Dalton Abbey truly began.

Lord Dalton's coach was larger than the Hummel family carriage, and with only the three men as passengers not overly crowded. The seat cushions were comfortable, and the movement of the carriage was steady and relatively smooth. Yet Kurt could not feel himself entirely at ease. The problem was not Lord Dalton's carriage but rather Lord Dalton himself.

Kurt was ashamed at this thought, for the older gentleman was not only his host but had been perfectly correct in his behavior. Though not a sparkling conversationalist, Lord Dalton had made the usual polite remarks about the weather and the inconveniences of travel. He had enquired most kindly about his family's health and whether they had enjoyed their stay in Bath. Kurt could object to nothing in his words or manner, yet still he found himself wishing that Lord Dalton were in London already. Then Kurt might speak freely to Blaine, even hold his hand, without worrying that every word, every look, would betray them.

Blaine himself said very little during the first part of their journey. Kurt was not certain whether this was due to caution or tiredness. His friend apologized repeatedly for yawning and eventually dozed off, his head drooping down almost to his chest.

"You must excuse my son," said Lord Dalton. "He is not by nature an early riser. Please feel free to nap if you like."

"Thank you, my Lord, but I feel quite awake," Kurt replied. "I am more lark than owl myself, and I always find it difficult to sleep on the road. I prefer to look out the window and watch the scenery pass by. We seem to be making good time."

"Are you sorry to be leaving Bath behind you, Mr. Hummel?"

"I had a very pleasant time in Bath, my Lord."

"No regrets, then?" To Kurt's astonishment, Lord Dalton actually chuckled at his own question. Clearly he believed Kurt had something to regret of an amusing nature.

"I never did make it to the hedge maze at Sydney Gardens," Kurt said. Perhaps Blaine had mentioned this to his father. If not, it still seemed a safe enough response. "Mr. Anderson and I had intended to go, but the weather was bad that day and then…well, we were so busy with other things." Kurt found it impossible not to recollect certain pleasant ways in which he and Blaine had passed the time together, though he tried to push such thoughts from his mind. "Other engagements I mean, like Miss Pierce's fondue party," he concluded, pleased he had managed to end on this wholesome note.

Lord Dalton nodded approvingly. "That Miss Pierce seemed a charming girl."

"I thought her an excellent dancer," Kurt said. "At the public ball, I mean. I had asked the Master of Ceremonies to introduce me to a lady who danced well, but I had not expected so graceful a partner as Miss Pierce."

"Nor one so pretty?"

"Well, better to look at a pretty face for two dances than a plain one," said Kurt, trying his best to smile knowingly. He understood now what Lord Dalton was driving at, and by no means wished to give the impression that he was indifferent to feminine beauty. Still, he saw no reason to suggest a stronger attachment to Miss Pierce than actually existed. "Though I must confess that Miss Pierce is not of the type I most admire. She is an attractive young lady to be sure, but I am rarely impressed by fair-haired women. Perhaps it is because the loveliest one I have ever known is soon to be my sister."

"I thought Miss Pierce a very pretty girl," said Blaine unexpectedly. He had lifted his head and was stretching his shoulders. "She has a remarkably fine complexion."

Kurt had thought Miss Pierce's complexion rather sallow, but did not contradict Blaine on this point. He was playing a role for his father, and Kurt must play his part as well. "She is pretty enough, I do not say otherwise. Yet there is more to beauty than a fine complexion. The figure must be considered as well."

"Can you find fault with her figure?" Blaine asked. "I grant that she is not full formed, but a slim, upright figure must always be considered elegant. Indeed that word seems a perfect description of her. Had Miss Pierce no charms except those endowed to her by nature then I might dismiss her as no better than a thousand other pretty girls. But when a fine complexion and figure is complemented by grace, good taste, and accomplishment, surely that is worthy of a man's admiration."

This seemed such an odd description of the good natured but silly Miss Pierce that Kurt began to suspect that Blaine was speaking of someone else entirely. He felt himself growing warm under the collar. "You refer to her skill as a dancer," he said, adjusting his neckcloth.

"Although she dances well, it was her singing that enchanted me," Blaine said.

Kurt was sure of it now. Miss Pierce's singing had been pleasant, but not particularly accomplished. "Were you really so impressed by her singing?" he asked, hoping that Lord Dalton would attribute his blushes to thoughts of pretty girls.

"I was more than impressed," Blaine said. "I was moved."

"I did not realize she was such a talented young lady," said Lord Dalton.

"Mr. Anderson is generous in his praise, my Lord," Kurt said. Having understood the game that Blaine was playing, he could not resist joining in. "Personally I would say that Miss Lopez was an equally fine singer. As for looks, a clear brunette complexion and glossy black hair are more my idea of beauty."

"I suppose she is handsome enough, if you care for that type," said Blaine. "I thought her a bit short to be considered a real beauty."

"She seemed the perfect height to me," Kurt replied. "And those eyes! I have often meditated upon the very great pleasure which a pair of fine eyes in the face of a pretty woman can bestow. If there is a sight more lovely than dark eyes looking up at you through long black lashes, well, I do not know what it is."

"I suppose we must agree to disagree on that point," Blaine said.

"Better to quarrel over which lady is the greater beauty than to quarrel over the lady herself," said Lord Dalton. "It is good for two friends to have different tastes in such matters."

"I quite agree," said Kurt. "To each his own, and may each be pleased with his own choice." Feeling he ought to say more to keep up the role of the country swain, he added "Are there many young ladies to choose from in your neighborhood, Mr. Anderson?"

"Not so very many," Blaine said. "Dalton is a small town."

"It might seem larger, if you did not refuse every invitation," said Lord Dalton. "Mr. Hummel may find it dull sitting at home with you night after night."

"You forget that I am from the country, my Lord," said Kurt. "Though I enjoy balls and parties, I do not expect to attend an event every night. I am used to simple amusements: music, cards, good books, and good conversation."

"See Father, Mr. Hummel is not afraid to be left alone with me," Blaine said with a smile.

"Oh, you will not be alone," said Lord Dalton. "I have written to invite your aunt to stay at Dalton Abbey while I am away."

Blaine's smile vanished. "Do you really think that is necessary?" he asked, his voice sounding strained.

"I hope it is not," his father replied. "But you are not used to entertaining guests. Lady Dalton will be pleased to serve as hostess for you. I am sure you would not want to make a bad impression on Mr. Hummel."


	37. Dalton Abbey

**Author's Note:** Our boys will finally reach Dalton Abbey in this chapter, which borrows heavily from Jane Austen's _Northanger Abbey_…although Kurt is a bit more sophisticated than Catherine and Blaine isn't quite as inventive a storyteller as Henry. There are specific allusions to three particular Gothic novels, _The Abbess_ by William Henry Ireland, _The Monk_ by Matthew Gregory Lewis, and _The Mysteries of Udolpho_ by Ann Radcliffe, although if you've read _Northanger Abbey_ you probably have a pretty good idea what these sorts of books were like!

The town of Dalton is fictional, but I imagine it to be located west of Salisbury near Wilton and Dinton. I don't know enough about architecture to imagine a wholly original country house, so Dalton Abbey itself is based loosely on Philipps House in Dinton.

As some of you have guessed, Blaine's aunt, Lady Dalton, is a canon _Glee _character. When Blaine first mentioned his aunt in passing many chapters back I really had Lady Bertram (and her pug!) from _Mansfield Park _in mind, with a dash of Mrs. Norris, but when I decided she would actually play a part in the story it occurred to me that there was a _Glee _character who would fit the role pretty well. You will soon find out who she is! She will be a fairly minor character though, so don't expect any plot twists based on what happened with her on the show. Some cousins are also mentioned in passing, but they're non-canon and probably won't be showing up in this story.

The verse of a poem Blaine sings in this chapter is by the 17th century poet Thomas Carew, one of the "Cavalier poets". I don't know that this poem was ever set to music, but I wanted to use it and I figure Blaine is musical enough to come up with a tune on his own. Kurt sings "Miss Bailey's Ghost" (also known as "The Unfortunate Miss Bailey"), a comic folk song about a ghost who haunts her former lover.

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><p>When they stopped in Hindon to change horses, Blaine suggested a rearrangement of their traveling party. "I have a fancy to drive myself the rest of the way home," he said. "Would you care to join me in the curricle, Mr. Hummel? The day is fair enough, and you have seen little of this part of the country."<p>

Kurt readily agreed. He would have been hardly less eager had they been in the middle of a blizzard. Lord Dalton made no objection to this plan, other than to warn Blaine not to drive too fast. The two young men took their seats in the curricle while Lord Dalton's valet joined his master in the coach. A few moments later they were on the road again, heading east towards Salisbury.

The curricle soon outpaced the larger, heavier vehicle. Kurt turned his head to look back at it, remembering the first time he had seen that grand liveried coach pass by. He had wondered then what sort of family had a singing bird on their crest and what sort of place Dalton Abbey might be. Little had he known that six weeks later he would be on his way to that noble residence, the guest and intimate friend of its heir. Even a week before he had not hoped for such a thing. Yet here he was, riding beside the most charming gentleman in the world in an open carriage bound for Dalton Abbey.

The sequence of events that had led him to this point were so absurd, so wonderful, that Kurt had to laugh. Blaine looked over at him, puzzled. This only caused Kurt to laugh harder. Blaine chuckled, and then began to laugh as well. They laughed until they were both gasping for breath. When at last their mirth subsided, Blaine said "Will you explain the joke to me now? I confess I do not know why we have been laughing."

"We have been laughing because we are so happy," Kurt replied. "At least, that is why I have been laughing."

"I am glad to hear it," Blaine said with a smile. "I feared that perhaps there was something comical about my driving."

"Of course not. You drive very well," Kurt said, and this was no empty praise. He admired Blaine's skill with the reins and his firm yet gentle handling of the horses. Under his control they moved as lightly and gracefully as a pair of dancers. While the interior of the coach had been warmer and the seats more comfortable, Kurt thought the curricle an altogether more pleasant means of transportation. Here he could breath the fresh air and see the landscape all around them, not merely the small patch visible through the coach window. Though the curricle was not as spacious as the coach, this meant that he was seated even closer to Blaine. Surely the only experience more delightful than being driven by Blaine on a fine autumn day was being kissed by Blaine, and once their journey came to an end there would be ample opportunity for that.

Or so Kurt had thought, before they had learned they were to have a chaperone. He had seen how disappointed Blaine had been by this news. "Does driving so well require your full attention, or can you speak with me at the same time?" Kurt asked.

"I can speak, though you must not expect anything brilliant of me," Blaine replied. "Do you have some topic in mind?"

"Tell me about Lady Dalton. Is she a terrible old tiger?"

"Well, she is not so very old," said Blaine. "She was my uncle's second wife, and much younger than he was. Nor would I call her terrible, though I am afraid my uncle did not choose as wisely as your father did when it came to his second union."

"She was a fortune hunter?"

"A bit of that, I suspect, though she did seem genuinely fond of my uncle. I think that she must have been one of those pretty women who expects to marry well and so does not concern herself with the pursuit of other accomplishments. She was probably happy enough while the old man was still around to dote on her. After he died…well, I suppose she hardly knew what to do with herself."

"How sad." Kurt could easily picture the beautiful widow, all veiled in black, wandering the gloomy halls of Dalton Abbey. It was like something from one of Miss Cohen-Chang's novels. "There were no children, I suppose?"

"Not exactly. My uncle had four from his first marriage, a son and three daughters. They were all grown by the time he remarried. Cousin Philip was killed at sea just two years later. I gather that everyone expected my uncle's new bride to provide him with another son. My father certainly was not sitting idly by waiting to inherit. He had a blockade to maintain. His luck against the French was better than Philip's, the poor devil." Blaine fell silent, and for a long moment they both sat listening only to the sound of the carriage wheels and the clip-clop of the horses' hooves. "I have often thought how different things might have been had Philip lived," he said at last. "Or had there been another son after all. Aunt Teresa was with child when my uncle died. The situation for my family was complicated, you understand. The title passed to my father upon his brother's death. We would not know for months whether he would be displaced as heir, but the estate could not be left unattended in the meantime. So we left Devon and moved into the Abbey, not knowing whether it was truly to be ours."

"Aunt Teresa had said that if the baby were a boy then we would be welcome to stay on as her guests," Blaine continued. "And she has never allowed us to forget it. She miscarried more than ten years ago, and nothing my family has done for her since can equal the generosity she imagines she would have shown us had she been mother to the next Lord Dalton. She will be pleased to have an excuse to stay at the Abbey for several weeks. She still likes to think herself mistress of the place."

"I suppose she will be a strict chaperone," Kurt said, thinking he would have preferred the tragic figure he had pictured earlier.

"I imagine we will be able to manage her," said Blaine. "She will expect our deference, and a bit of flattery would not go amiss, but she will not wish to keep us always beside her. She prefers the company of her pugs. They do not trouble her nerves. When I was a boy she often complained that I troubled her nerves with my noise and running about. I am afraid she found me very tiresome."

Kurt pictured now a motherless boy, his hair a tangle of dark curls. A boy like himself in many ways, and yet so different. The world of Kurt's childhood had been small, and often lonely, but he had not felt himself unwanted. "I cannot think that you were tiresome."

"You did not know me then. Perhaps you would have found me quite dull."

"Impossible," Kurt said lightly. "No one who lives in an abbey could be dull. Did you live at a Dalton House, Dalton Hall, or Dalton Court then I might feel differently towards you, but I am helpless to resist the allure of an abbey."

"I am glad to hear it, though I cannot think why that particular name should intrigue you so."

"Could there be a name more intriguing? It suggests everything that is romantic and thrilling. Even a Dalton Castle could not possess so much ancient, mysterious grandeur as a Dalton Abbey."

"You imagine some majestic Gothic pile, I gather."

"Is it not a fine old place, just like what one reads about?" Kurt asked innocently. "You must have towers and tapestries and great arched windows. I cannot believe it to be otherwise."

"Though we have a few tapestries, I am sorry to say that you will find the house itself to be quite modern," said Blaine. "Much of it was rebuilt by my uncle."

"Yet surely there remains some forgotten crypt or secret passageway. I could content myself with a decaying chapel, if need be."

"We have nothing like that, I fear," Blaine said. "Of the old abbey there is nothing left. Well, nothing except...the North Tower."

Kurt was gratified to see a sparkle of humor in Blaine's eyes once more. Their time together would be short enough; he did not want Blaine to spend it dwelling on unhappy thoughts of the past. In an open carriage they could not kiss or embrace one another, nor even speak with complete freedom, but he could amuse Blaine with nonsense without shocking Lord Dalton's driver. Though the coach was well behind them, it was not yet out of sight.

"A tower sounds promising," Kurt said. "I trust that it is windswept and gloomy."

"There is not a spot in Wiltshire more swept by the wind or full of gloom."

"Such a forbidding place seems likely to be haunted," prompted Kurt.

"Indeed it is, by the ghost of the abbess herself," Blaine declared. "They say she was murdered by a secret lover. Her name is lost to history, but we call her the Bleeding Nun."

"An epithet you borrowed from _The Monk_, I take it."

"On the contrary, where do you think the author got the idea? He must have been a guest at Dalton Abbey at some point. We house all our guests in the North Tower, of course. That is where you will be staying. I requested that the darkest, most cavernous chamber be reserved for you."

"You are a considerate host. Will I sleep shivering upon the bare stone floor?"

"Only if you are too terrified to draw back the heavy velvet drapes of the bed and enclose yourself within. Whichever you choose, your slumber will be brief and troubled. A violent storm will awaken you in the dark hours after midnight. You will open your eyes to the sight of a strange, ethereal figure."

"The Bleeding Nun?"

"The very same. She will beckon to you silently before disappearing through a black curtain hung in the far corner of the room. So the question I must pose to you now is whether you would have the courage to lift up the curtain, or if you would instead lie in your bed—"

"Or on the floor," Kurt interjected.

"—trembling with fear until dawn?"

"That is quite a conundrum," said Kurt. "I would of course be frightened to find myself in such an eerie situation, but I think that I would manage to steel my nerves and pull back the dreadful black veil. In fact, I have a strong suspicion as to what I would find there."

"Do you? You must tell me then, for I had not yet thought of it."

"It is quite obvious. The Bleeding Nun haunts the tower because that is where her own chamber was located. If she had a secret lover, they must have had some way of meeting. The black curtain conceals the staircase that she used to steal away from the abbey in the dead of night."

"A clever deduction," Blaine said. "I have no doubt that you are correct. However, this does raise another question. Having found the hidden stairs, would you then be bold enough to traverse them?"

"That would depend," Kurt replied. "On whether I had a secret lover waiting for me at the bottom."

Blaine looked over at him, and when he spoke the jesting tone was gone from his voice. "You would be bold then, for the sake of love?"

"Yes," Kurt said. He knew that there was much for them to fear, things both more ordinary and more dangerous than mysterious passages and haunted towers, but he felt he might brave much for a man like Blaine. "Yes, I believe I could be."

Blaine's only reply was to sing the words of the old poet:

_So shalt thou thrive in love, fond boy!  
>If thy tears and sighs discover<br>Thy grief, thou never shalt enjoy  
>The just reward of a bold lover.<br>But when with moving accents thou  
>Shalt constant faith and service vow,<br>Thy Celia shall receive those charms  
>With open ears, and with unfolded arms.<em>

Kurt, never one to pass up an opportunity to sing, followed this performance with a rendition of "Miss Bailey's Ghost". They continued taking turns singing these quaint old songs to one another and thus passed the last miles of their journey most pleasantly. Sooner than Kurt expected, Blaine steered the curricle onto a narrow lane and announced that they would soon reach Dalton Abbey.

They passed through the gates of the lodge and continued along a winding avenue sheltered by linden trees. The golden leaves, illuminated by the warm light of the setting sun, formed a rustling canopy over their heads. Then suddenly the open parkland was before them, and Kurt laid eyes upon Dalton Abbey for the first time.

The house was, as Blaine had said, quite modern in appearance: straight and square, with walls of smooth, pale limestone. The building's chief ornament was a Grecian style temple-front. The four towering columns seemed unlikely guardians for the set of French windows that served as the main entrance. Yet though Dalton Abbey was completely lacking in arches, spires, and colored glass, Kurt could not feel disappointed with it. The house was larger than any he had seen in Lima, its proportions were elegant, and the many windows gave it a welcoming appearance. Most importantly, this was Blaine's home. Such an inhabitant would make even the crudest shack in all of England seem dear to Kurt.

Still, he could not hold back a quip. "The North Tower has crumbled away during your absence, I see." Dalton Abbey had no towers, although there appeared to be some sort of cupola on top of the building.

"So it has," Blaine said. "The wind must have swept a bit too hard. Well, there is nothing to be done for it. You must endure one of our spare bedrooms, no matter how bright and comfortable. There is a charming room right beside my own."

Agreeable though this plan was to both the young gentlemen, they soon learned that other arrangements had been made. Upon entering the house they were greeted by the housekeeper, who expressed her surprise at seeing them without Lord Dalton. "We raced ahead in my curricle," Blaine explained. "Father will be along shortly in the coach. We have only these small bags so there is no need to trouble the footmen on our account, though you might warn them that the trunks will arrive soon. I'll show Mr. Hummel to his room myself."

"Certainly, Mr. Anderson. You will find that the green bedroom has been made up for him."

"The green bedroom?" Blaine asked, surprised. "Why on earth should he be put there?"

"I do apologize, Mr. Anderson. When His Lordship wrote with his instructions he did not say which room Mr. Hummel was to have. I selected the green bedroom myself, but there are many fine rooms in the East Wing. I can have the maids prepare whichever one you think is best."

"Mrs. Reynolds," Blaine said slowly. "Why is Mr. Hummel to be housed in the East Wing?"

"His Lordship wrote that this was what your friend would prefer," the housekeeper replied. "Is that not right?"

She looked so concerned that Kurt felt embarrassed. "Yes, that is quite right," he said. "I like to have the morning light. I am sure the green bedroom is lovely."

This matter settled, they left Mrs. Reynolds to attend to her other duties. Blaine led Kurt up the grand staircase to the upper floor of the house. When they reached the top, Kurt paused to look up at the interior of the cupola ceiling directly above. The windows of the cupola allowed him to see up to the sky, which was fading from pink to purple already. After admiring the effect, Kurt hurried to catch up with Blaine.

"You did not need to agree to this," Blaine said softly as they walked along the eastern corridor. "There is no reason you should not be in the West Wing with the family. We have spare bedrooms aplenty, even with Lady Dalton visiting. It is not right for Father to banish you to the East Wing alone. I will speak to him about it."

"No, I do not mind, honestly," said Kurt. "If Lord Dalton does not trust me, his suspicions will hardly be allayed by our objecting to his room arrangements."

"It is I he does not trust," said Blaine. "If he regarded you as an unhealthy influence, he would not put you in the green bedroom but rather on the next mail coach." He stopped to open the door of a room that, true to its name, had carpets, drapes, and bedclothes all in shades of green. They stepped inside and Blaine closed the door behind them. "By sending you off to the farthest corner of the house he means to keep you as our guest while putting as much distance between the two of us as possible," he continued. "All in the vain hope that this will aid me in resisting your many allurements."

Kurt set his bag down on the dressing table. "Have I many allurements?" he asked with feigned casualness. He reminded himself that he was a bold lover. He must not be frightened by the strange stirring in the pit of his stomach or the pounding of his own heart.

"Scores," said Blaine behind him. "Multitudes."

He turned and found that Blaine was standing closer than before. "Name one," Kurt said. "Not my complexion or my voice. Something different."

"Your lips," Blaine said, close enough now that they were nearly touching. "Look delicious."

Hearing this, Kurt had neither the will nor the inclination to deny him a taste. When Blaine leaned forward to close the last inches between them, Kurt received him with unfolded arms.


	38. Gentlemen's Morning Attire

**Author's Note:** Something funny I've discovered while writing this story is that it's possible for a writer to have a pretty good idea of what's going to happen next, sit down to write it, and discover that it's just not time for that to happen yet. I'm not intentionally stalling – I wasn't able to write for weeks due to being busy at work, but I was thinking a lot about what I would write once I had time – it's just that a bit that I intended to be maybe just a couple of paragraphs before I got in to the material that I had planned turned out to be an entire chapter. It's definitely not an action-packed episode, but I hope you enjoy it.

I learned a new period costume term while working on this chapter, and so of course had to find a way to include it. A banyan was an Asian-inspired type of men's robe popular in the 18th and early 19th century. It was also called a morning gown or night gown, but was not worn to bed like a modern nightgown. Regency gentlemen just slept in the same shirt they'd been wearing that day. Early banyans were loose and kimono-like, but later they became more fitted and fastened up the front, similar to a South Asian Sherwani. (This fitted style is what I have in mind.) Banyans were trendy in the 1700s, particularly among intellectuals or men who fancied themselves intellectuals, and were worn over a shirt and breeches as a casual alternative to the dress coat. By the early 1800s banyans were transitioning from a garment that could be worn in public to something only worn in private. By the time of this story they were considered appropriate for lounging around the house in the morning but not when going out. A decade or so later the banyan had evolved into the dressing gown and was mostly limited to the bedroom or bathroom.

* * *

><p>Though the dining room at Dalton Abbey was spacious and richly decorated, the attendants numerous, and the food plentiful and well-prepared, Kurt found that these pleasures paled in comparison to the stolen minutes with Blaine just before dinner. He felt that he might gladly have accepted a less elegant meal served at a more elegant hour. Yet much as Kurt would have liked to devote his thoughts to the ways he and Blaine might have passed the time together, he was aware of his obligations to his host. He endeavored to focus on the dishes before him, the elegance of the room, and the expression of his appreciation for both to Lord Dalton.<p>

The chief topic of their after dinner conversation was Lord Dalton's upcoming trip to London. The Queen's funeral would be held in one week, on the first of December. Lord Dalton would depart in two days and return two or three weeks hence. "I hope you will not find it lonely here, Mr. Hummel," said Lord Dalton. "Lady Dalton will join us tomorrow; perhaps she will be able to introduce you to some of the young ladies of the neighborhood."

"She will not want them to catch scent of him," said Blaine. "Not until she's decided which one to breed me to."

"Blaine, I have spoken to you about making such jests," said Lord Dalton sternly. "Your aunt is trying to do what is best for you. You may think her foolish, but she has shown more concern for your future than you have yourself. You are a man now. It is time to behave like one. If you have no regard for serious matters, you might at least show some consideration for our guest."

"I do apologize, Mr. Hummel," Blaine said. "I hope I have not offended you."

"No, please, it is quite all right," said Kurt. He felt embarrassed to have been witness to Lord Dalton's lecture, and still more embarrassed to have been the cause of it. "I look forward to meeting Lady Dalton, though I hope she will not put herself to trouble on my account. After all the excitement of Bath I have been looking forward to a few days of quiet relaxation."

"We have quiet enough here, to be sure," Lord Dalton said. "Too much, I sometimes think. My oldest son was fond of dances and parties."

Neither Kurt nor Blaine had a reply for this last remark, which was spoken in a soft and almost wistful tone. Kurt could not guess at what Blaine was thinking, but found himself pitying the old gentleman. While he had often thought of Blaine's grief, he had given little consideration to that of his father. He must mourn the loss of his wife and son, just as Kurt's own father mourned Kurt's mother. Yet Kurt and his father had managed to take comfort in one another while it seemed that Lord Dalton and Blaine had not.

After they retired to their rooms for the night, Kurt thought again of his father. While their relationship was warmer than that of Lord Dalton and Blaine, this must be in large part because Mr. Hummel suspected less of the truth. Far from guessing where Kurt's affections lay, Mr. Hummel had thought him enamored of Miss Cohen-Chang. Although he had expressed himself willing to see his son joined with a bride of another race, this could not be taken as a sign that he would tolerate a far less conventional romance. Lord Dalton was proof enough of this. He had traveled the world and brought home a foreign bride, yet he could not accept that his son's heart was not made to love women. Kurt could expect no better from his own father.

Indeed he might expect to face consequences far more severe, were his father ever to learn that he felt more than friendship towards Blaine. Regardless of the present Lord Dalton's wishes, Blaine could count upon inheriting both the title and the estate. Hartfield House was not entailed. Mr. Hummel would be free to cast Kurt out, leaving him with neither home nor family. Even that was not the worst that might happen if Kurt's secret were discovered. Mr. Hummel's heart was weak. The shock, the shame, might be more than it could withstand. Kurt felt he might endure much for Blaine, but not that. He could not allow his greatest joy to lead to his greatest loss. His father must never know. Kurt would protect him the only way he could, by guarding this secret forever.

He turned over in bed, though the change in position did little to ease his mind. Blaine's fanciful tale of the Bleeding Nun was to prove correct on two points. Kurt's sleep was troubled, and some time after midnight it began to rain.

* * *

><p>The rain continued throughout the following day. Though Kurt might have wished for fairer weather, he was grateful to have something to talk about with Lord Dalton over breakfast. After they had each remarked upon their good fortune in having made the journey from Bath the previous day, Lord Dalton had expressed sympathy for Kurt's family having to continue their own journey home in such poor weather, and Kurt had offered his hopes that it would be fine tomorrow when Lord Dalton set out for London, they had almost finished eating. Blaine entered the breakfast parlor just in time to spare Kurt from having to inquire after Lady Dalton's health or compliment the tea service.<p>

"How good of you to join us," Lord Dalton said to his son. "I was beginning to wonder what was keeping you. I see it was not that you wasted any time in dressing yourself."

Kurt's eyes widened, taking in the blue damask morning gown, the unbuttoned shirt collar. He had never seen Blaine _en déshabillé_ before. He had never seen Blaine's neck before either, not bared _à la Byron_. He remembered how Miss Berry had once called Blaine the very image of the famous poet. Though the open collar heightened the resemblance to portraits of Lord Byron, Kurt thought that Blaine had the handsomer neck. It was slim but strong, with a prominent Adam's apple. The long muscles on either side looked as finely sculpted as those of a Greek statue. The neckline of Blaine's morning gown was low enough to reveal their terminus, the hollow at the base of his throat. There, never before seen or even imagined by Kurt, was a hint of dark hair. He bit his lip and stared down at his empty plate, so as not to stare elsewhere.

He heard rather than saw Blaine go to the sideboard and prepare a plate for himself. "I always wear my banyan to breakfast."

"Not when we have a guest," Lord Dalton said.

"Not when we have a _lady_ as a guest. I hope I am not expected to treat Mr. Hummel as if he were a lady."

"I was referring to your aunt," said Lord Dalton hastily. "When she arrives I do expect that you will follow your friend's example and dress properly for breakfast." Kurt had dressed carefully in a grey jacket and a matching neckcloth before descending from his room. He had not dared to wear anything too _outré_ while Lord Dalton was still at home.

"I will endeavor to follow his example in all things," Blaine replied. He set his plate on the table and took his seat. "Good morning, by the way, Mr. Hummel. I hope the rain did not keep you awake last night."

"It did a bit," Kurt admitted. He risked another look at Blaine, and found it easier to maintain his composure this time. The trick was to focus on his face, the features both dear and familiar. "But I am well enough this morning." The loneliness of Kurt's first night at Dalton Abbey was fading like a bad dream. He told himself that it had been nothing more than homesickness. He would be separated from his family for some time, but he could hardly regret it if each of these days were to be spent with Blaine. Nor were a few troubled nights and awkward meals too high a price to pay for his company.

"I am glad to hear it," said Blaine, buttering a roll. "Still, I am sorry about the weather. I had hoped to show you the grounds today."

Lord Dalton suggested that their guest might enjoy a tour of the house instead. "I dare say there is enough to see indoors to fill a morning," he said. "Though my tastes are simple enough, some of my late brother's ornaments are worthy of notice. Nothing compared to what you must have seen in Lady Susan's home, Mr. Hummel, but some fine pieces nonetheless."

"To be sure," Kurt murmured politely. He saw no point in explaining that he had never been invited into Lady Susan's house in Lima. While she always appeared at such local events as she felt might benefit from her criticism, she rarely entertained at home.

"We have also a few curiosities that I collected while in the Navy, if you have an interest in such things," Lord Dalton continued. "Blaine, you might show him my model ships as well. You must forgive me, Mr. Hummel, for not serving as your guide myself. I have several matters to attend to this morning." With that, he excused himself from the table.

It required no great generosity on Kurt's part to forgive his host for leaving. Curious as he was to see the rest of the Abbey, the prospect of a tour led by Blaine seemed far more appealing than one with Lord Dalton as its conductor. They still could not be completely unguarded in their behavior – such a large household must have a large staff of servants who might see or hear them – but freed from the suspicious gaze of Lord Dalton they might relax a bit.

"You did not tell me that your father constructed model ships," Kurt said. "A fascinating hobby, for those who are not bored to tears by it. What must I do to prevent you from making me look at them?"

"If you sit there and smile at me while I have my breakfast, I will not even ask you to admire the ones that I was forced to assist him with," said Blaine, tearing apart another roll. "I apologize for making you wait, but it will not take me long to eat and I'll finish dressing as quickly as I can."

"I suppose you will dress before breakfast tomorrow."

"Yes, never fear. I would have done so today, only I did not want my father to think that I had taken special care with my appearance for your sake," Blaine said. "I should have known that he would manage to find fault with me either way."

"Did you wish to take special care for my sake?" Kurt had stood before the glass for some time that morning wondering if Blaine would think that he looked well in the outfit he had chosen. How odd to think that Blaine, blessed with greater beauty of face and figure, might consider it necessary to take similar pains with his dress.

"Well, I would not have worn court dress to breakfast," said Blaine. "But I know how much you care about appearances. Do not shake your head; I saw how shocked you were when I came in wearing a banyan! I know it is terribly old-fashioned."

"My tastes are not as formal as you think," Kurt replied. "I have no objection to a morning gown worn in the morning. The banyan style is rather dated, but the fabric of yours is beautiful and the color suits you."

"It is kind of you to say so."

"I am never kind when it comes to matters of dress. I offer only my honest opinions. It is one of the few topics about which I can speak my mind freely, in any company."

"Then perhaps I should ask you what I ought to wear today," said Blaine, rising from the table. "Lest I bear the brunt of your criticism later."

"I am sure you will look well enough in whatever you choose. But if you mean to please me, wear your navy blue jacket."

Blaine paused beside Kurt's chair on his way to the door. "Because the color suits me?" he asked with a smile.

Kurt smiled up at him in return. "Yes, though not only that. The cut is also very flattering. I have always admired the way it looked on you." On the day they had met he had thought how dapper his new acquaintance looked. Kurt did not say this aloud for fear of sounding too sentimental. He knew that thinking of their first meeting would not slow the coming of the day when they must part.

Something of these thoughts must have shown in his expression, for Blaine placed his hand on Kurt's shoulder and said in a soft voice "Is there anything else I should do, if I wish to please you?"

Kurt shook his head. "Only hurry back. I am eager for you to show me everything there is to see at Dalton Abbey."


	39. A Tour of the House

Well, this update has been a long time coming, hasn't it? Thanks for sticking with me through what has turned out to be a rather chaotic period in my life. Fortunately it's mostly been a good sort of chaotic, and things are settling down now. This chapter also came together in a chaotic way; I wound up writing several different versions of Kurt and Blaine's conversation before settling on what you'll find here.

Some of the description of Dalton Abbey in this chapter is taken from Philipps House, and some is inspired by (or blatantly plagiarized from) _Northanger Abbey_. I've also borrowed a minor plot point from _Northanger Abbey_, and Kurt and Blaine's discussion of dancing as an analogy for marriage is inspired by a more lighthearted exchange between Catherine Morland and Henry Tilney on the same topic. I could not resist throwing in allusions to a couple of classic 1980s songs as well, including one I can't believe has never been performed on _Glee_ – Pat Benatar's "Love Is a Battlefield".

Thinking of pop culture, the novel Kurt picks up, _Glenarvon_, was a bestseller of 1816. It attracted a lot of attention for containing characters that were thinly-veiled and unflattering depictions of real-life society figures, including Lord Byron. Although the book was published anonymously, it was an open secret that the author was Byron's ex-girlfriend Lady Caroline Lamb. I feel like this is the sort of thing Kurt would have been very interested in.

* * *

><p>Blaine, true to his word, soon returned fully dressed for the day. "Do I pass inspection?" he asked, adjusting the cuffs of his blue jacket.<p>

"I would not be ashamed to be seen with you," Kurt said. "Not even on the most fashionable street in Bath."

"I fear there is nothing at Dalton Abbey that will interest you so much as the shops and meeting places of Bath."

"There was nothing in Bath that interested me so much as my new friend. Fortunately I have brought him with me to be my guide."

They left the breakfast parlor and walked together through the dining room, central hall, and common drawing room. These required little commentary, as Kurt had seen them all the evening before. They proceeded next into a room magnificent in both size and furniture: the real drawing room, used for company of consequence. Kurt's discriminating eye took in the color of the satin, the plaster ceiling cornices, and the gilded frames of the paintings on the walls, but these were not what most impressed him about the room.

"What a beautiful piano!" he exclaimed. The instrument was a Broadwood grand, polished to a rich glow. "May I test it?" Blaine nodded, and Kurt carefully pressed the keys. The notes rang out clear and warm. "Wonderful! We can play together, and sing. You will let me practice on it, won't you? Oh, look how much music you have! It would take me a year to copy it all. May I copy it? Will you help me?"

Blaine laughed. "Yes, yes, whatever you like. Shall we set to work now, or continue the tour?"

"Tour first," said Kurt, rising from the piano bench. "Tell me about the portraits. Are they your relatives?"

"All except Charles the First." Blaine gestured towards a painting of the unlucky king. "My family owes our title to him." He turned to the portrait above the fireplace, depicting a gentleman wearing a long powdered wig and the costume of two centuries before. "That is my third great-grandfather, the first Baron Dalton. Then his son, and his son, and his son – my grandfather. That is my uncle" – a portly old gentleman wearing his scarlet Parliament robes – "the fifth Baron, and my father of course is the sixth." The present Lord Dalton was shown in his naval uniform, a sword at his side.

"And the ladies?" There were only three portraits of women in the room.

"My grandmother, my uncle's first wife, and my Aunt Teresa."

Kurt gave particular attention to this last one, as he was soon to meet the original of the portrait. Blaine's aunt, a pretty woman with golden hair like Miss Fabray, appeared to have been no more than twenty when it was painted. Her gown was cut with the high waist and low neckline that had been in fashion when Kurt was a small boy. He wondered how she looked all these years later, though this was not the question foremost in his mind.

"Is there no picture of your mother?" he asked. She had been Lady Dalton for a time, and it seemed strange that she should not be honored with the other recent bearers of that title.

"There is. It used to hang there." Blaine pointed to a blank space on the wall. "After she died, my father had it taken down."

"He wanted it for his own room, I suppose."

Blaine shook his head. "He had it put away. I found it, after I returned from Oxford, and hung it in my bedchamber. I will show it to you, if you like."

"I would, very much." Kurt was curious to see what Blaine's mother looked like, to learn which of her features had been inherited by her son. He thought that Blaine must greatly resemble his mother, for he seemed so unlike his father. The thought of Lord Dalton reminded Kurt that they were not alone in the house. "Though perhaps your father would not want me to go into...into the West Wing." He could not trust himself to say "your bedchamber" without blushing.

"He would not," said Blaine. "Indeed there are many things he would not want us to do. Fortunately by this time tomorrow my father will be gone to London, and we will not need to concern ourselves with his wishes." Blaine took Kurt's hand in his. "Come, I will show you the library."

Perhaps it was the thought of Lord Dalton's upcoming absence, or perhaps it was simply the feeling of their hands clasped together, that awakened in them both a feeling of giddy excitement. They ran through the central hall, down another passage – it was hung with tapestries, just such as Kurt had imagined would be found in an abbey, but he did not stop to examine them; the brave knights, the forest, the fountain, passed by in a blur – and burst into the library, gasping and giggling like children.

The library, as large as the formal drawing room, was lined with bookcases on three sides. Windows along the fourth wall provided light enough to read by, even on a rainy day. Between the windows hung paintings of ships in full sail. Busts of Shakespeare and Milton stood on the mantle, and on the shelves and tables Kurt spied several objects of more exotic origin: jade animal figures, a bronze lamp, and a pair of blue and white Chinese vases.

He moved to examine the titles on the nearest bookshelf, but Blaine pulled him back. "You must take care," he said.

"With the books?"

"No. You must take care not to look in the cabinet at the end of the room."

Hearing this, Kurt's eyes were irresistibly drawn to the far side of the room. There stood a large glass-fronted cabinet. From this distance he could not see what was inside. The glass reflected back a murky image of the room, with two dark and featureless figures standing beside each other near the door.

"It contains something awful," Blaine whispered, his breath like a ghost against Kurt's ear. "Too awful to be borne."

Kurt looked at Blaine again. "Surely it cannot be so awful as that," he said, raising an eyebrow.

"Oh, but it is. Awful enough to drive you to the brink of madness."

"You mean to tempt me."

"Nothing could be further from my mind. I took a solemn vow that I would not allow you to look upon such horrors as are contained within."

"You underestimate my courage," Kurt said. "I have looked into Miss Berry's wardrobe and lived to tell the tale."

"I do not doubt your bravery, but I must be faithful to my vow."

"And you will not tell me what is inside this dreadful cabinet?"

Blaine smiled. "Only if you can guess."

"Hmm, is it full of skulls?" Kurt asked.

"No."

"Snakes?"

"No."

"Then it can only be one thing." Kurt paused for dramatic effect. "Your father's model ships."

"You are too clever for me," said Blaine. "But note that I kept my promise, and did not bore you with them."

They spent some time looking over the books. There were many great works of history, religion, and poetry, but few novels. When Kurt enquired about this, Blaine said that he had several among his personal books and that Kurt would be welcome to borrow any of them. They proceeded to Blaine's study, a small, dark chamber paneled in wood. The desk was strewn with an assortment of books and papers. An Alken print of a horse and rider hung on the wall, and one corner was given over to fencing foils and masks.

Kurt lifted several Greek texts to free a copy of _Glenarvon_. "This should keep me amused before breakfast, if you are always to be such a late riser."

"I would remain in bed even later, if I could," Blaine said. "I do not sleep well at night."

They continued on to the conservatory, full of fragrant orange trees, and the billiard room, which smelled less pleasantly of tobacco smoke. In the kitchen they were fussed over by the cook, who provided them with two pieces of shortbread each. Once these refreshments had been consumed, they returned to the entrance hall.

"I am not sure what else to show you," Blaine said. "We have seen most of the house already." Kurt was surprised, as from the outside the house had seemed large enough to contain far more than the rooms they had visited. Blaine explained that the portion of the ground floor as yet unseen was largely taken up by various offices and storerooms, while the upper floor contained only the bedchambers of the family and their guests. "Unless you wish to examine the furnishings of the other spare bedrooms, there is only the ballroom left."

"_Only_ the ballroom?" said Kurt. "You cannot mean to deny me the opportunity to inspect such an important space."

"I can deny you nothing," Blaine replied. "I meant only that there is little amusement to be found in an empty ballroom. If you wish to see it then that is easily done."

He led the way back down the passage hung with tapestries and past the library to a set of double doors. Though Kurt had spoken in a jesting manner, he was genuinely curious to see what the ballroom of a great country house like Dalton Abbey was like. He knew that it must be far grander than the ballroom at Hartfield House. That room was in truth only a parlor that Kurt had repurposed. He had chosen the draperies himself and had his mother's small upright pianoforte installed there. By candlelight he felt the room had as elegant an appearance as any in Lima. Though of a size adequate to hold as many dancing couples as the Hummels were ever likely to host, the Hartfield ballroom was used more often as a place for Kurt to practice his singing or stage amateur theatricals.

When Blaine pushed open the double doors of the ballroom, Kurt was confronted with a space much larger than the Hartfield ballroom but also far gloomier. The fire had not been lit, nor the curtains drawn. The only light came from the lamps behind them in the passageway. The chandelier had been wrapped with a cloth to guard against dust. The paintings, or perhaps they were mirrors, that hung on the walls had been covered as well. This was a room not merely empty, but abandoned.

"Does no one come here anymore?" Kurt asked in a hushed voice.

"I sometimes use it for fencing practice." Blaine saluted Kurt with an imaginary foil and then bent his knees in a fencing stance. "Though I prefer the front hall, provided no company is expected. Guests tend to find it unnerving when one greets them holding a sword." He lowered his imaginary weapon and stood up straight again. "If you mean for dances then no, there has not been one at Dalton since my brother died. My aunt is always eager to play hostess, but I have not the stomach for it."

"I thought that you enjoyed dancing." Kurt had been impressed by Blaine's lively steps at the Upper Rooms in Bath, as well as his gracious offer to partner with Miss Pierce when Mr. Puckerman had refused.

"I do enjoy it," Blaine replied. "I only wish that dances were more about dancing and less about the pursuit of other ends." Perhaps guessing at Kurt's thoughts he added "I would gladly throw a ball tonight if my only guests were to be your charming friends. They seemed happy to accept me as Mr. Anderson, a pleasant dancing partner and nothing more. Here in my home county there are too many girls who wish to be the next Lady Dalton. Or rather, their parents wish it for them." He sighed. "If I must constantly be on my guard, I might as well be fencing."

"Do you think fencing much like dancing?" asked Kurt.

"Like enough," said Blaine. "Both are forms of exercise that stimulate the body and the mind. One must practice the proper movements and execute them with speed and grace, always keeping one's partner close – but not too close."

"Yet dancing is a peaceful pursuit. It is not a form of combat."

"Is it not? Many dancers seek to capture their partner, or else fend off their advances."

"I am surprised to hear you speak of love as a battlefield."

"I do not speak of love," said Blaine. "Only courtship. Nine times out of ten they have nothing to do with one another. A partner is more often chosen out of duty, necessity, or vanity, just as with dancing."

"You are too much a cynic. While there are loveless marriages, I cannot believe them to be as common as you claim. Certainly no one wishes for such a union."

"No one wishes to dance with a partner they do not love either, yet it happens more often than not."

"A dance is nothing like a marriage," Kurt said. "It lasts only a short time, ends without tragedy or scandal, and it is quite proper to take another partner immediately afterward. I am sure that it is preferable to dance with somebody who loves you, but to stand up for a set with an indifferent partner is no great hardship."

"I once thought it so." Blaine looked out across the room, as if picturing the elegantly dressed couples that had stepped and turned on the marble floor, illuminated by the sparkling chandelier. "When we held balls here, all the ladies hoped to dance with my brother. I could hardly blame them. Given the choice between us, any woman would have preferred Cooper. Fortunately I am not the sort of man who would quarrel with his brother over a woman." He shrugged his shoulders. "Still, it hurt my pride. One does not always wish to be considered the lesser of two options. I learned to wait until Cooper had made his invitation before asking a lady to dance myself. That way she would not feel too disappointed by me."

"I cannot believe that anyone was ever disappointed to dance with you," Kurt said.

"You did not know him."

"I know you, though." Kurt reached out and took Blaine's hand. The open doors behind them discouraged any more intimate gesture. "Did I tell you that I had a dream about you?"

"When, last night?"

Kurt shook his head. "Weeks ago. The night before we went to the ball at the Upper Rooms, though in my dream we were in Lima. All of my friends were there. Everyone was dancing." He turned to look through the doorway at the passage beyond. It was empty, but Kurt lowered his voice to ensure they would not be overheard. "We were waltzing. You and I. We waltzed together in front of everyone, and I was so happy. Not because I wished to be the next Lady Dalton, although I do." He squeezed Blaine's hand and smiled. "I was happy because you had asked me to dance, and there is no one in the world I would rather have danced with."

"Dearest," Blaine whispered. "You know that we cannot—"

"I know," Kurt said. "It was only a dream. I do not even know how to waltz." He smiled again. "Still, there was truth to it. You told me that the day we met, do you remember? That sometimes a dream is not merely an illusion, that the feelings at least may be real."

"What clever things I say. I wish I understood half of them," Blaine replied. Then in a very different tone he added "I wish that I could dream of you."

"Perhaps you will," Kurt said. "Though I hope you will not lay abed dreaming when we could be breakfasting together."

"Do not ask me to make promises I cannot keep," Blaine answered with a smile. "Which reminds me, I did promise to help you copy my music. Shall we make a beginning of it?"

They turned and walked together out of the empty ballroom and back into the light.


	40. Two Pugs and a Lady

Happy Thanksgiving! I forgot to mention this in my last update, but as of this month this story is two years old. I know that some of you reading this have been following along since the beginning, and I want to thank you for your patience!

Lady Dalton and her pugs make their first real appearance in this chapter. The pugs are of course right out of _Mansfield Park_, although I've made Lady Dalton a bit more creative with names than Lady Bertram. Names from ancient history and myth were fairly popular for upper class pets, although I actually borrowed the specific names I've used here from one of my father's favorite TV shows. I'd bet that most of you reading this are too young to guess what it is without Googling.

Lady Susan's ancestry is mentioned at the beginning of this chapter. I had always imagined her to be the daughter of an earl, but hadn't thought much about it beyond that. Then I learned while reading Paula Byrne's recent biography, _The Real Jane Austen: A Life in Small Things_, that the Austens were acquainted with the family of the Earl of Portsmouth, who also held the title Viscount of Lymington. As I've placed the fictional village of Lima in the same part of Hampshire as Lymington, I realized this had to be Lady Susan's "real" family! A little research revealed that the 2nd Earl of Portsmouth actually had a daughter of about the right age to be Lady Susan. She had the rather delightful name Lady Urania Wallop.

Almack's was a very exclusive social club in London that hosted weekly balls. I don't think it's ever actually mentioned in Jane Austen, but has been frequently used as a setting by Georgette Heyer and other Regency romance authors.

* * *

><p>Lady Dalton arrived in time for dinner, accompanied by her lady's maid and a pair of fawn pugs named Zeus and Apollo. Kurt had been warned by Blaine not to refer to her as a dowager – "She would barely tolerate that name while my mother lived, and rejects it altogether now" – and had he not already known her to be a widow then he would not have taken her for one. She was obviously long out of mourning; her gown was of yellow satin, trimmed with pink rosettes.<p>

The prettiness of the features Kurt had observed in her portrait proved to be the work of nature rather than an artist's flattery. The years that had passed since she sat for the painting had been kind to her, leaving few signs of age except some fine lines around her mouth. Her hair was still golden, her voice high and girlish. Yet there was a peculiar intensity in her gaze, a hardness that either had not been captured by the artist or had not been present in her youth.

Lord Dalton introduced Kurt as a friend of both Blaine and Lady Susan Sylvester. "Lady Susan," mused Lady Dalton. "Not the Earl of Portsmouth's daughter?"

"The very same," said Lord Dalton.

"How wonderful!" she cried. "Dear old Portsmouth. What a charming gentleman he was. We met at Almack's, before I was married of course."

"Did you indeed?" Blaine asked, just loudly enough to be heard.

"Or perhaps it was Ascot," she said. "Yes, that must have been it. The Sylvesters always attended the races."

"Lady Susan is quite a horsewoman," Lord Dalton remarked.

"Indeed she is!" Lady Dalton agreed. "I was never one for riding myself; I have such a delicate frame. Still, Lady Susan and I quickly became the most intimate of friends. Any acquaintance of hers is surely welcome at Dalton Abbey." She paused to scratch Zeus behind the ears. "Do you like dogs, Mr. Hummel?" she asked, in a tone that indicated this was not a casual question.

"Who does not like dogs?" Kurt replied. He knew that one possible answer to this question was "A man who does not wish his clothes to be shed or drooled upon", but he was prepared to smile at Lady Dalton's lapdogs as long as she kept them to her own lap.

He had not, however, been prepared for her to keep the dogs on her lap throughout dinner. Neither had he expected to watch Lady Dalton feed herself and her pugs from the same plate. Despite their small size, the two dogs were able to consume as much of Lady Dalton's meat as the lady herself.

"What a hungry baby," she cooed as Apollo licked at her fingers. This sight left Kurt with little appetite for his own meal. The end of the dinner hour came as a great relief.

Lord Dalton was inclined to linger over his glass of port, but the younger gentlemen quickly excused themselves to join Lady Dalton in the drawing room. Their promptness did not, however, prevent her from lamenting how neglected she was. "It is a sad thing for a lady to be forced to sit alone, waiting for the gentlemen to come in," she said. "If only you would marry, Blaine. I would have a companion then. How often I have wished there were another lady here to talk with!"

"The way you used to talk with my mother?" Blaine asked in a curiously flat tone.

Lady Dalton giggled. "One could hardly talk with your mother, Blaine. She was a charming little creature of course, but I could not understand one word in ten that came out of her mouth!"

That the two Lady Dalton's had not been close companions was perhaps unsurprising, but Kurt had not expected to hear Blaine's mother spoken of in such a dismissive manner. He looked to Blaine, and saw from his expression that this was not a new insult. It was an old wound, and Blaine seemed determined to prod at it.

"My mother spoke four languages," he said. "I wonder how many you speak, Aunt Teresa?"

"I am sure I could have learned a great many languages, had I the patience for such things," Lady Dalton replied. "Really though, I do not see the point. English, spoken properly, is all one needs."

"Provided one never leaves England."

"Nonsense. Proper English is understood in all the best places. Isn't that right, boys?" This question was directed not at Kurt and Blaine but at Zeus and Apollo, who were curled up on Lady Dalton's lap. "Even your mother understood me well enough, provided I spoke slowly and loudly. Still, it was rather tiring having to explain things to her all the time. I do hope you plan on marrying an Englishwoman, it will be so much simpler for everyone."

"I assure you that I have no intention of bringing a foreign bride home to Dalton," Blaine said.

Kurt hastened to turn the conversation in a less sensitive direction. "What a pity Lady Susan is not here with us," he said. "I am sure she would have much to say on this matter."

"Doubtless she would!" Lady Dalton chuckled. "She was always such a wit. Tell me Mr. Hummel, did she ever marry?"

"No, my lady, she did not," Kurt said. The question was proof enough that Lady Dalton and Lady Susan had not renewed their acquaintance in recent years, though Kurt had already guessed as much himself.

"Oh, what a shame," said Lady Dalton. "She ought to have followed her own advice. 'Allow nothing to distract you from achieving your own ends.' Wise words they were, but alas!" She sighed. "We poor women are so often the helpless victims of fate. My own marriage was a blissfully happy one, yet I am left with neither husband nor son. I have no one except my darling pugs to comfort me."

Her own hardships were apparently a favorite topic of Lady Dalton's, as she continued on in this vein for over a quarter of an hour. She expounded at some length upon the loneliness of the dower cottage and how ill-used she was by her step-daughters, who selfishly preferred to devote themselves to their husbands and children. Saving those times when she stayed at Dalton Abbey, visited friends, entertained at home, or traveled to London, Lady Dalton's only companions were her beloved pugs. She cuddled them in her lap as she spoke, occasionally pausing in her complaints long enough to ask them "Who's a good little boy?" or "You love your mummy, don't you?"

Lord Dalton entered the drawing room at last, though his arrival provided only a brief interruption. He was still settling himself in his chair when Lady Dalton took up her monologue where she had left off. Kurt nodded and murmured sympathetically as she chronicled her difficulties with the domestic help. As tedious as this was, he felt it preferable to attempting conversation with Lord Dalton. He could not, must not, forget that one wrong word to that gentleman could be his undoing. Once Lord Dalton was safely on his way to London, Kurt might relax his guard. The same qualities that made Lady Dalton a poor conversationalist seemed likely to make her an ideal chaperone, at least from the perspective of her wards. A lady so concerned with the many petty indignities she had suffered could have little attention left to devote to the two young gentlemen.

For his part Lord Dalton seemed content to sit by the fire and allow his meal to digest, leaving his son and their guest to humor his sister-in-law. Her litany of complaints must be long familiar to him already. Kurt saw the older gentleman's eyes drift shut as Lady Dalton began describing some error committed by her footman. "I sent Howard on a very simple errand to the apothecary..."

Blaine took up an old issue of _The Gentleman's Magazine_ and began flipping through the pages. He made several gallant attempts to introduce a new topic of discussion based on some bit of information contained within. After ignoring his first two feints, Lady Dalton firmly countered his third. "Do you really find such things interesting?" she asked. "I make no pretensions to great learning, but I cannot think the history of the Globe Theatre so fascinating a subject as to justify interrupting one's elders. Were my husband still alive I would not be expected to endure such treatment."

"Apologize to your aunt," Lord Dalton said, without opening his eyes.

"I am terribly sorry, Aunt Teresa," said Blaine. "I thought Mr. Hummel might like to hear about it. I am not used to entertaining guests."

"And who is to blame for that?" she asked. "How many times I have brought one of my pretty young friends to dinner, only to see her treated with the coldest indifference! You will not even host a ball, though I would do all the work of arranging it myself."

"I would hate for you to go to such trouble for my sake," Blaine replied.

Lady Dalton continued as if she had not heard him. "I cannot think what I have done to be cursed with such an unsociable nephew. I begin to think that you will never marry."

"Had you still any hope of it, with me an old maid of three and twenty? What man would want me for a bride?"

This remark was enough to rouse Lord Dalton. "Blaine!" he said sharply, sitting up in his chair and glaring at his son.

"It is only a joke, Father."

"You laugh, but you are not too young to be married," declared Lady Dalton. "It is not as if you need to establish yourself in a profession first. You are heir to a noble estate. Your chief duty is to ensure that it remains intact, and that the ancient title of Baron Dalton will live on."

Kurt seized upon this opportunity to play the role of the country swain. "That's a duty that should be a pleasure, especially if one has a pretty wife," he said, chuckling in as hearty a manner as he could. "We met some monstrously pretty girls in Bath, didn't we, Anderson?"

"Indeed we did," Blaine said, glancing sideways at his father. "Though half the girls I met were already friends of Mr. Hummel here. When we first became acquainted he did not tell me then that he had traveled to Bath accompanied by a harem, the sly creature. Then the next time I saw him he was sitting in the Upper Rooms like some pasha surrounded by his favorites! One even wore a turban, if I recall."

"That would have been Miss Jones," Kurt explained to Lady Dalton. "A very dear friend, though I fear she became rather angry with me during our holiday."

"Why is that?"

"She felt I was paying too much attention to another friend, Miss Berry. Really she need not have been jealous; Miss Berry does not fancy me at all. She was far more impressed by Mr. Anderson."

"I pity her, then," said Lady Dalton. "He snubbed her cruelly, I wager."

"On the contrary," Lord Dalton said. "I am pleased to say he was quite solicitous of Miss Berry."

"One might even have accused him of being overly familiar with such a new acquaintance," added Kurt.

"You are not still angry with me about that, are you Mr. Hummel?" Blaine asked.

"Not at all. I mention it only to defend you against the more serious accusation of coldness," Kurt said. "Mr. Anderson and I quarreled over his flirtation with Miss Berry," he added, for Lady Dalton's benefit.

"It would hardly call it a flirtation," Blaine said. "I danced with her at a public ball, attended one of her parties, and escorted her to the theater. That is all."

"All! The waters of Bath must have done you good, for that 'all' is more than I would have dared hope for," said Lady Dalton.

"Then I hope you will be content with it," said Blaine. "For I do not mean to court Miss Berry."

"I should have known!" Lady Dalton cried. "Blaine Devon Anderson, you are the most heartless creature who ever lived." Kurt opened his mouth to speak, but she cut him short. "Do not try to defend him to me now, Mr. Hummel! He has cruelly broken that poor girl's heart, and robbed me of a companion. Oh, what beasts you men can be!" She clutched Zeus to her bosom and muttered "You aren't a naughty boy like that, are you, sweetie?" The tiny dog looked out at the gentlemen helplessly with its great, bulging eyes.

Lord Dalton gazed back at the dog with an expression of distaste before turning his attention towards his son. "Blaine, I trust there was nothing improper about your behavior towards Miss Berry?" he asked sternly.

"No, Father," said Blaine. "I think what Mr. Hummel was about to say was that she was not really as captivated by me as he made it sound a moment ago. She liked my company well enough and we did quarrel about the attention I had shown her, but in the end we both came to realize that Miss Berry was not to be won by either of us. There is already another gentleman she prefers above all others, and he is Mr. Hummel's stepbrother."

"That is true, for all the good it will do her," said Kurt. "As you are aware, my lord, my stepbrother is engaged. I must confess that I am looking forward to his wedding with more than the usual anticipation." He looked back to Lady Dalton and saw that she had begun kissing Zeus's wrinkled face. "My lady, it might interest you to know that my brother's fiancée is the goddaughter of your dear friend Lady Susan."

"Of course, Lady Susan's goddaughter," said Lady Dalton, swiftly regaining her composure. She set Zeus back on her lap beside Apollo. He began licking himself. "A charming girl, I have heard. You must remind me of her name."

"Miss Fabray," Kurt supplied.

"Yes, dear Miss Fabray! Lady Susan has often mentioned her to me."

"Then she has no doubt told you what a beauty Miss Fabray is," Kurt said. "I always thought her the most beautiful girl in the county. Even in Bath I never saw her equal. Alas, it was my brother who captured her heart." He attempted to adopt an appropriately wistful expression. "Still, the world is full of beauties. I decided never to let a woman come between me and my brother, and I am happy to say that Mr. Anderson and I have come to a similar agreement."

"I am sure my nephew gave you no trouble on that point, Mr. Hummel," said Lady Dalton. "Did you threaten to come between him and his horrible old books then that would have been another matter entirely, but he would not care a whit even if you were to marry the lovely Miss Fabray yourself."

"Were I to be so lucky!" Kurt said with a theatrical sigh.

"Do not wish it so, Mr. Hummel," said Blaine. "I am not entirely without feeling, nor am I blind to the charms of a pretty face. Were you to marry Miss Fabray, I fear my heart would be consumed by the green-eyed monster of jealousy."

"There can be little danger of that," Kurt replied with a smile. Though he knew Blaine's speech had been largely for the benefit of Lord Dalton, he appreciated the double meaning. "Miss Fabray is devoted to my brother. I could not hope to steal her away from him, no more than you could."

"It is just like you, Blaine, to meet only girls who you have no chance of marrying," said Lady Dalton. "I swear you do it to vex me."

"Fortunately he did make some other acquaintances in Bath," said Lord Dalton. "Including two young ladies who are not yet attached, a Miss Pierce and a Miss Lopez. Both beauties, yet as different as night and day. I do not think it will embarrass Mr. Hummel for me to say that he prefers Miss Lopez, while Blaine prefers Miss Pierce. You should have heard the way he spoke of her during our journey home."

Lady Dalton brightened at this intelligence. "Miss Pierce, you say? Well, it is an English name, at least. You must tell me everything about her. Is she from a good family?"

"Her aunt seemed an excellent woman," said Lord Dalton.

"I believe the Pierces are intimately acquainted with Lord Tubbington," Kurt added.

"Lord Tubbington, yes, a delightful gentleman," Lady Dalton said approvingly. "And what is Miss Pierce's marriage settlement to be?"

"I did not think to ask," said Blaine. "Had she been vulgar enough to inquire as to the size of my inheritance then perhaps it would have occurred to me."

"It is early to be speaking of marriage," said Lord Dalton. "Blaine has only been acquainted with Miss Pierce for a short time. Yet her aunt did tell me that they will be in London for the Season, so perhaps he will have the opportunity to meet her again." He turned to his son and added "Or perhaps you will meet some other girl who will make you forget Miss Pierce entirely. I am eager to see you wed, but not so eager that I would insist that you marry the object of your first attachment."

"Though there is much to be said for marrying one's first love," interjected Lady Dalton.

"I want you to enjoy the coming Season," Lord Dalton continued. "Just as you enjoyed our holiday in Bath. I was pleased to see you in such improved spirits, and socializing with so many new acquaintances. I would credit the waters for the change in you, but I know it had far more to do with our guest here." He nodded at Kurt. "Mr. Hummel, I hope you will continue to be a healthy influence on my son while I am away."

"I will do my best, my lord," Kurt said, bowing his head to avoid meeting Lord Dalton's eyes. He hoped this would be taken as modesty. While Kurt was not yet entirely certain how he and Blaine would fill the coming days, he was certain that there would be little that Lord Dalton would approve of.


	41. David et Jonathas

**Author's Note:** I'm afraid this update has taken a lot longer than I'd expected. That's partially due to real life concerns, and partially because I became very stuck on it. I finally wound up deciding that a lot of material I'd already written either needed to be cut or saved for later. This chapter wound up going in a rather different direction than I'd planned, but I hope you will enjoy it.

The opera _David et Jonathas_, by the Baroque composer Marc-Antoine Charpentier, is one I probably would have mentioned much earlier, if I'd known about it! A few months ago I happened to come across a review of a recent production at the Brooklyn Academy of Music and decided I had to work it in somehow. I've been unable to get ahold of the score so I can't quote from the lyrics, but the aria mentioned in this chapter is probably the most famous one from the opera.

There is a fair amount of discussion about the Bible in this chapter, so I do want to mention here that I am definitely not a Biblical scholar and am not arguing that a particular interpretation is "right". What I'm interested in is how 1818!Kurt and Blaine would interpret certain passages, and how they would relate them to their own experiences. All Bible quotes are taken from the King James Version.

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><p>In the days that followed Kurt and Blaine passed the time by practicing the piano, copying out sheet music, and walking in the garden. This was the news that Lady Dalton relayed to her brother-in-law, who had requested that she write to him in London to let him know how Blaine and his friend were getting along. As Lady Dalton considered both music and exercise bad for her nerves, she was mostly content to leave the young gentlemen to their own amusements while she occupied herself with her needlework and her pugs. She thus had little else to report, except to say that Mr. Hummel had been a great help to her in re-trimming some bonnets. The remainder of the page was spent reminding Lord Dalton to give her regards to her dear friend Lady Susan if he should chance to meet her in town.<p>

The letter did not include the observation that when Kurt and Blaine walked together they went hand-in-hand. There was no reference to the fact that they had long conversations in the library which were quickly abandoned whenever Lady Dalton entered the room. Even in her presence one of the gentlemen would sometimes catch the other's eye and then both would look away with smiles only half suppressed. To the extent that she deigned to notice such behavior at all, Lady Dalton considered it unworthy of mention. Young people would have their private jokes. She suffered from no personal curiosity as to what her nephew and his friend talked about when alone, for she was certain that nothing they had to say could be of much interest to her.

One rainy afternoon they had a conversation that Lady Dalton would have found very dull indeed, though it proved to be surprisingly edifying for Kurt. He had been sorting through Blaine's collection of sheet music when he came across an unfamiliar French aria from an opera titled _David et Jonathas_.

"David and Jonathan," Kurt said. "I did not know that there was an opera about them."

"I'm afraid it isn't very popular," said Blaine. "I have never seen it staged. I discovered the score when I was at university."

"It is not a comedy, I gather." The opening line of the aria was _À-t-on jamais souffert une plus rude peine? _[For who has ever suffered a harsher penalty?]

"Do you not know the story?" Blaine asked, surprised.

"I confess I was never a diligent student of the Bible," Kurt said, hoping he sounded sophisticated and world-weary rather than merely ignorant. "I know of David, of course," he added. "But nothing of Jonathan except that he was his friend."

"His dearest friend," said Blaine. "That song is about how Jonathan is torn between his duty to his father and loyalty to his sworn companion David."

"Why, what happened?"

"Jonathan's father was King Saul, who was first David's patron and then became his enemy."

"I remember, he kept throwing his spear at David and sending his men to kill him." Kurt had once sat through a lengthy sermon about how righteous David had been to seek reconciliation with Saul rather than revenge. The vicar had chosen not to mention in this sermon that David had killed hundreds of men in battle, though on other Sundays David was described as a hero for defeating the Philistine giant Goliath. This was the sort of thing that had eventually caused Kurt to lose patience with religion. It seemed the Bible could be made to mean whatever one wanted it to mean.

"Jonathan tried to reason with his father," said Blaine. "He tried to explain that David had done nothing wrong. When that failed, he helped David to escape."

"So was loyal to his friend."

"Yes. He could hardly do otherwise." Blaine placed his hand on Kurt's and twined their fingers together. Though they delighted in one another's touch, they were careful even when alone. Were Lady Dalton to suddenly enter the room then a kiss or an embrace would hardly escape her notice. Such passionate gestures had to wait for those moments when they could be quite certain they would not be interrupted.

When he was at home, Kurt habitually devoted the entire hour before dinner to dressing for dinner. Since coming to Dalton he had managed to reduce that time considerably. Lady Dalton, occupied with her own toilette, would not expect to see her nephew or his friend until the dinner gong was struck. Nor would she hear them. Blaine's father had unwittingly done them a favor by arranging for Kurt to be housed in the East Wing, far from the rooms used by the family. Once Blaine had changed into his evening clothes he had only to slip away to the green bedroom. He and Kurt could then enjoy the remainder of the hour in the manner they liked best, though their ardor was somewhat constrained by the necessity of presenting an unrumpled appearance at the dinner table.

"He loved him," Blaine continued softly. "Jonathan loved David as if they shared the same soul."

Kurt thought of the Greek story Blaine had told him, of how there were men who loved one another because they had once shared the same heart, though surely there was nothing like that in the Bible. "You mean that he loved him as a brother," he said.

"You may read it for yourself." Blaine squeezed Kurt's hand, then rose and went over to one of the bookcases. He took down a Bible and flipped through it until he found the desired passage. "Here," he said, placing the book before Kurt. "Chapter 18. This is just after David has slain Goliath."

Kurt looked at the page, and found that the first line of the chapter had nothing to do with David's skill with a slingshot. _And it came to pass, when he had made an end of speaking unto Saul, that the soul of Jonathan was knit with the soul of David, and Jonathan loved him as his own soul._ The next line described how Saul brought David into his own home, which supported the interpretation that David and Jonathan were like brothers, yet this was followed by more about Jonathan's love for David. _Then Jonathan and David made a covenant, because he loved him as his own soul. And Jonathan stripped himself of the robe that was upon him, and gave it to David, and his garments, even to his sword, and to his bow, and to his girdle._

Was this what Miss Berry had wanted him to read? Kurt could not remember her exact words now. It seemed to him that she had mentioned First Samuel, Chapter 18, but perhaps she had intended some other verse. He skimmed the rest of the chapter, which told of how Saul became envious of David and feared he would seize control of the kingdom. Despite this Saul allowed his daughter Michal to marry David. Jonathan was not mentioned again until the beginning of Chapter 19, when he warned David of danger. Michal then helped David to hide from Saul's men. In Chapter 20 Jonathan continued trying to defend David but only managed to anger his father. Finally he went to David and told him to flee for his life.

These seemed like the actions of a friend or brother. Kurt would have done the same for Finley, were his father's mind somehow to become poisoned against him. Yet there were again in these chapters certain passages that suggested a more than brotherly affection between the two young men. _Jonathan Saul's son delighted much in David…David sware moreover, and said, Thy father certainly knoweth that I have found grace in thine eyes…Jonathan caused David to swear again, because he loved him: for he loved him as he loved his own soul…and they kissed one another, and wept one with another, until David exceeded._

Kurt was not certain what to make of all this. He looked up at Blaine. "Miss Berry once told me that I might find a friend to share my home, as Jonathan found David," Kurt said.

"Yes, I remember you mentioning that."

"I wonder what on earth she meant."

"Perhaps she thought you deserved a loyal companion," Blaine replied. "I have heard the story described as a lesson about true friendship, though it has always seemed more than that to me."

This, Kurt thought, was typical of Bible stories: they could mean whatever one wanted them to mean. To Blaine it meant love, and to Miss Berry it meant friendship. Or did it? Miss Berry had suspected Kurt of being in love with Finley. Though he had managed to convince her otherwise, he had admitted to her that he did not intend to marry. That was when she had spoken of her bachelor uncle and his friend Mr. LeRoy, and of David and Jonathan. Could she have understood why Kurt would never take a wife?

No, it was impossible. Had she guessed the nature of Kurt's heart then she would never have spoken to him in such a sympathetic manner. She would not have compared him to her guardians or to heroes of the Old Testament. She would have been horrified. Miss Berry must have meant only that she hoped Kurt would find a faithful friend like Jonathan.

David struck Kurt as rather less admirable, either as a friend or a lover. He said as much to Blaine. "Their relationship seems to have been entirely to David's advantage. Jonathan gave David gifts and did his best to protect him. David did not do the same for him."

"Jonathan was a prince and David was a shepherd," said Blaine. "He could not repay Jonathan's gifts, and Jonathan did not need his protection."

"Still, we are told much about Jonathan's love for David and little about David's love for Jonathan," said Kurt. "Perhaps David thought of him only as a friend or brother. He did marry Jonathan's sister. And did he not have many other wives as well? Did he not covet the beautiful wife of one of his soldiers? David's heart must have been made to love women, not men."

Kurt said this hoping that Blaine would argue with him. He wanted Blaine to tell him that David returned Jonathan's love in full measure. The story might mean anything, but if that were the meaning that Blaine saw in it then Kurt could believe that Blaine loved him. While Kurt knew that Blaine cared for him, he was not certain that Blaine's feelings were as strong as his own. He wanted to believe that they were soulmates. He wanted to believe that they shared the same heart. Yet how could that be if there was still a portion of Blaine's heart that remained a mystery to him? Kurt had hoped that, in Lord Dalton's absence, Blaine would be free of the dark moods that had occasionally afflicted him in Bath. Instead there were still times when a shadow seemed to fall across his face. He would grow quiet and Kurt could not guess what he was thinking. At other times Blaine smiled and spoke of love, but it was always in the abstract. Though he called Kurt his dearest and whispered very pretty things to him when they were alone, he had never said "I love you."

He did not say it now. Instead he leaned over Kurt and began turning the pages of the Bible. His face was close beside Kurt's. Close enough for kissing, had they dared. Instead Kurt tilted his head slightly and felt Blaine's cheek brush against his own. By this time of the afternoon he had whiskers enough to scratch Kurt's skin. Kurt did not mind it. The rough stubble served as a tangible reminder that his favorite hour was approaching. Blaine's beard grew so quickly that he shaved himself twice a day, first in the morning and again before dinner. Before he came to Kurt's room.

While Kurt was distracted by these thoughts, Blaine had found the verse that he was looking for. "Second Samuel, 1:26," he said, and sat back in his chair. With some effort, Kurt turned his attention to the book. _I am distressed for thee, my brother Jonathan: very pleasant hast thou been unto me, thy love to me was wonderful, passing the love of women._

"But what does it mean?" he cried, wondering why neither Blaine nor the Bible could express themselves clearly. "Did David care for Jonathan as a brother, or did he love him in the way that most men love women?"

"Perhaps his feelings were not so easy to classify," Blaine replied. "Who can say? They have both been dead for more than two thousand years. Time changes the nature of the world, and all things must pass from one condition to another."

This last statement sounded to Kurt like a quotation. "Is that from the Bible as well?"

"Lucretius, the Roman philosopher." With a slight smile, Blaine added "He died of love."

"Oh, did he?" Kurt asked, rather peevishly. The topic of love in the ancient world was not half as interesting to him as the question of love in the here and now, yet Blaine seemed determined to speak only of the former.

"His mistress feared he did not love her as much as she loved him and gave him a potion to ensure his devotion to her. Instead it drove him mad. He eventually took his own life." Blaine placed his hand on top of Kurt's again. "That is what comes of too much worrying about whose love is the greater. It can only end in grief."

Kurt was beginning to understand what had made Blaine a fencing champion. Somehow he had managed to win an argument that Kurt had not even been certain they were having.


	42. Into the Labyrinth

**Author's Note:** I've had some version of this chapter in mind for more than a year, but wound up having to rewrite it twice before I was reasonably happy with it. Sorry for making you all wait, but the earlier versions were weirdly dark (which probably had more to do with my life at the time than this story) and I don't think you would have liked them.

In this chapter Kurt and Blaine visit a "temple" on the grounds of Dalton Abbey. This is not a real ancient ruin. It was popular in the 18th and 19th centuries to add ornamental structures to parks and gardens, and these were often modeled after Greek and Roman temples. One can occasionally be seen on _Downton Abbey_, although what I have in mind for Dalton is smaller than that – more like a fancy gazebo.

I have received a few questions about the future smut content of this story. Things will be getting a bit racier now that Kurt and Blaine have more time alone, but don't expect anything too explicit. Some of the in-universe reasons for that will be addressed in this chapter, although I confess that I also find the thought of writing a sex scene in the style of Jane Austen rather daunting!

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><p>Several days into his visit, Kurt reminded Blaine that he had not yet seen the abbey's hedge maze. "It is one of the greatest disappointments of my life that I should never have seen the Labyrinth at Sydney Gardens," he said. "If you do not take me into your own private maze then I am sure to die of it."<p>

"You must forgive me, I had no idea your condition had grown so dire," said Blaine. "Though I should have realized when I saw how pale you looked at breakfast."

As the day was a fine one and they had no other obligations, the two young gentlemen collected their hats and set out across the grounds. The sky was the deep blue peculiar to autumn, and many of the trees in the woods beyond the park bore leaves of red and gold. Yet the air was mild, and chrysanthemums and Michaelmas daisies still bloomed in the garden.

"I can hardly believe it is the end of November," Kurt remarked. "It seems almost like springtime, only more colorful."

"After that summer we had two years ago, perhaps Nature felt we were owed a mild winter," said Blaine.

The maze was located some distance from the house, so as not to block the view of the park. Its walls were yew hedges, taller than a man, with needles as green in November as they were at any time of year. Once they had passed through the entrance, Kurt could have believed himself truly in another time. It might have been another season, another year, even another decade. Yew trees grew slowly and lived for many years. The maze must have looked much the same when Lord Dalton was young, and with luck would look much the same when Kurt and Blaine were both old men.

Hand in hand they walked down the long corridors of green. At each turning Blaine seemed confident which direction to take. Kurt tried at first to keep track of their route, but there were so many forks and branches that he finally decided to just trust Blaine to guide him.

They reached at last the heart of the maze. Here stood a small temple in the Grecian style, with eight columns and a domed roof. In the center of the temple was a plinth bearing a marble figure of a woman. Kurt peered up at her. She wore a long, flowing tunic and had one arm outstretched as if beckoning to them. Her finely sculpted curls were held back with a diadem. She had no other ornament except for the strap of a quiver that crossed her chest.

"Is it Diana?" Kurt asked. "Where is her bow?"

"I think she once held one in her hand there," Blaine said. He held out his own arm and mimed drawing a bow. "Though it may have been a torch instead. In the original, I mean. This is only a copy, not much more than fifty years old. It was my grandfather who decided that the Abbey grounds needed a temple."

"She is lovely, even if she is a copy," said Kurt. He thought the expression on the statue's face was surprisingly serene for the goddess of the hunt.

"I used to wish that my grandfather had purchased a copy of her brother as well. I admired Apollo above all the other ancient gods, though I confess his name has since lost some of its allure for me. I have heard it too many times on my aunt's lips. It is difficult to revere a god when he shares his name with a pug. Still, he was my favorite of the pantheon."

"Because he was patron of music," Kurt said, smiling. He remembered how, as a boy, he had been pleased to learn from his governess that the Greeks and Romans had a god of music. That this god should take the form of a handsome young man had seemed an especially charming notion.

"Music, poetry, and beauty," said Blaine. "All that I cared for. I have never been interested in hunting. My brother was the sportsman of the family, though he rarely came here unless we had a visitor who wished to see the temple."

"Did you come here often?"

"Yes, when I was home from school. It is a quiet place. It always felt to me like a secret place, though of course everyone knew it was here. Normally it was not worth anyone's trouble to come seek me out, so it was private enough. I would bring a book and sit here for hours."

"That sounds lonely."

"I had the company of my lady here." Blaine lifted his hat to the statue. "Over time I learned to appreciate her as her brother's equal. She is not only the huntress, but Lady of the Moon. She guards the secrets of the night and leads the Muses in their dances. She is Artemis, Diana, Selene, Luna, Phoebe, and Hekate of the crossroads." He turned back to Kurt and added, in a softer tone, "If we ask her, perhaps she will be Aphrodite for us."

"Aphrodite is Venus, not the moon." The goddess of love had always seemed a bit frightening to Kurt. The stories he had read depicted her as beautiful but vain, faithless, and quick to anger. That was not the kind of love Kurt longed for. He did not want to lose himself to a passion that flamed hot and soon burned out.

"Diana has her arrows, just as Cupid has his," said Blaine. "They say the moon is kind to lovers. She lights their way at night. Indeed she may smile more brightly upon men such as us. We would not harass her maidens or spy upon her while she bathed."

"They say the moon is fickle."

"Nonsense. She only alters her appearance. You can hardly criticize her for that. I have yet to see you wear the same waistcoat two days in a row." Blaine tugged playfully at Kurt's lapel. "Though the moon changes from dark to light each month, she is still more constant than her brother. She may sometimes be seen by day while the sun never appears at night."

Kurt turned away from Blaine. "They say the moon is chaste," he said, his voice catching in his throat.

"We need not follow her example in all ways."

A few steps brought Kurt to the temple. He sat down on its base and leaned against a column. "I have never had a lover."

"Nor have I," Blaine said, taking a seat beside him.

"Still, you know of such things." Kurt felt his cheeks growing warm. "I do not even know how to waltz."

"I could tell you what I know."

"About waltzing?"

"Or other amusements, if you like."

Kurt's cheeks were burning now. "How...how did you learn?"

"From a dancing master," said Blaine. "That is, if we are still talking about the waltz. If you refer to other matters then I had no formal instruction, though one does learn things at school that are not taught in the classroom. I was not long at Eton before I acquired a notion of what one boy might do for another."

"Oh." Kurt had heard jokes about boys' dormitories. "Do you mean that you..." His voice trailed off as he realized he did not know how to finish his question. One learned so few useful details from jokes.

"I cannot claim much in the way of practical experience, if that is what you are wondering," Blaine said. "You with your pretty face might have been someone's pet, but not I. Still, I heard enough to give me ideas. Then when I went to university I began to read books that my father would not have approved of, and have conversations that my father would not have approved of, and so discovered more of what two men might do together."

Kurt stared down at his own hands, which he was wringing together nervously. With some effort he pulled them apart and pressed his palms flat against his thighs. Then, with even greater effort, he asked the question that he had wondered about for years.

"Does it hurt very much?"

To his relief, Blaine did not laugh. "I do not think so," he said. "Not if one has a gentle lover. There are certain pleasures that come mixed with pain, and others that hurt no more than a kiss." He placed his hand on Kurt's and asked "May I kiss your hand, Mr. Hummel?"

His mock formal tone somehow made Kurt feel more at ease. "Certainly, Mr. Anderson," he replied. A kiss on the hand was nothing to be anxious about.

"May I remove your glove first?"

"Yes, of course."

Blaine tugged off his own glove before reaching over to unbutton Kurt's. Slowly, carefully he peeled the glove from Kurt's hand. The day was so mild that Kurt did not even feel a chill as his skin was exposed. Blaine folded the two gloves together and set them aside. At last he took Kurt's bare hand in his and raised it to his lips.

"What soft skin you have," Blaine murmured. He stroked Kurt's wrist and kissed the back of his hand again, then pressed a kiss between each of his knuckles.

Kurt's heart beat faster as Blaine turned his hand over and kissed the center of his palm. His fingers curled against Blaine's cheek, still smooth from his morning shave. He felt Blaine's tongue flick against his palm and gasped. Blaine pulled back slightly and turned his head to catch the tip of Kurt's thumb very gently between his teeth. His lips closed around it and he began to tease at it with his tongue.

Blaine took a firmer grip on Kurt's wrist as he released his thumb and moved on to his index finger. He administered the same treatment to each of Kurt's fingertips in turn, kissing, nipping, and licking until he reached the littlest one. After tending to this last finger, he raised his head but kept hold of Kurt's wrist.

"You are a very thorough kisser, Mr. Anderson," Kurt said weakly. His heart was still racing. He wished the weather were not so unseasonably warm. A cool breeze would do much to clear his mind.

Blaine grinned. "Indeed I am, for I am not finished with you yet."

His eyes stayed fixed on Kurt's as he kissed the tips of Kurt's index and middle fingers. He took a deep breath and then, with no further warning, sucked both fingers into his mouth.

Kurt did not gasp this time. He moaned. Blaine sucked harder, drawing Kurt's fingers in past the second knuckle. His eyes were closed now, but Kurt's remained open. He watched Blaine's lips move against his fingers, pulling back and sliding forward again. He felt Blaine's tongue twist around him like a snake. What a strange manner of kissing this was, and strange were the thoughts that it gave him. A cool breeze, a gale, a blizzard could not have blown them away. His mind was full of Blaine: his strong hands, his soft lips, and the exquisite heat of his mouth.

With a faint, wet sound, Blaine released Kurt's fingers. He opened his eyes and licked his lips. "There," he said. "That did not hurt, did it?"

Kurt shook his head, too dazed to speak. It had not hurt. It had not hurt at all, and yet his nerves were even more unsettled than before. His jacket felt far too heavy. Worse, his fashionably close-fitting trousers had grown decidedly uncomfortable.

"I won't ever hurt you, Kurt." Blaine's eyes were shining. His lips were flushed. He was so beautiful. The god of music himself could not have been more beautiful. He leaned closer and placed his hand on Kurt's waist. Kurt wondered if Blaine was going to kiss him. He wondered where Blaine was going to kiss him. He wondered if he would catch fire when Blaine's lips touched his skin.

"I only want to...to help you," Blaine continued in a lower voice. His hand was lower too, his fingers tracing circles around the buttons of Kurt's trousers. His palm felt warm even through the fabric. "We could help each other." His hand pressed down and Kurt's hips snapped forward, as if driven by instinct. As if his body were no longer subject to his will.

This was, finally, too much. "Please, don't," Kurt gasped, and hated himself for it.

The hand withdrew. "I'm sorry," said Blaine. "I am a beast. Please forgive me. I do not mean to do anything that you do not want."

"I do not know what I want," Kurt said, though this was not entirely true. He wanted to be safe and he wanted Blaine to love him. Yet he did not know how this might be accomplished, or if it was even possible to have both. "I do not know what is right and what is wrong."

"It is not wrong to desire pleasure, or to share it willingly with another."

"That is not what the law says."

"I know," said Blaine. "Dearest, I know. Yet we are safer at Dalton Abbey than anyplace else in England. I would not have invited you here if it were not so."

"Your father—"

"This is his estate. If we are discovered then it can only be by my aunt or some servant here. They would not tell anyone save my father himself. He would be furious, but he would not let me stand trial for anything short of murder. He cares too much about the family name."

"That is well enough for you, but I doubt your father has the same concern for _my_ name."

"No, and that is why you must blame me," said Blaine. "If it ever comes to that, and I pray that it will not, you must play the innocent. Cry and say that I tricked you, that I forced you. I will not deny it."

"I could not betray you." Kurt had known all along that he might have to lie about his relationship with Blaine, to deny everything or claim some silly misunderstanding, but he was not prepared to paint Blaine as a villain.

"It would not be a betrayal. My father would do nothing to me that he does not intend to do already. I'll be sent down the aisle with one of my aunt's charming little friends, and you'll be sent home to your own people. My father might even offer you a gift in exchange for your discretion."

"A bribe, you mean," said Kurt. "To keep me from spreading my lies."

"What does it matter? You and I will both know the truth, and you will be safe. Promise me, Kurt. It is the only way I can protect you."

"I promise," Kurt said. "But darling, we must be careful."

"We will." Blaine rose to his feet. "Do you want to go back to the house? My aunt will be taking her luncheon soon."

Kurt thought of Lady Dalton feeding her dogs from her plate. "I am not hungry," he said. "We can stay here a while longer."

"I could go and get a book for us," Blaine said. "I should have brought one along, but I did not think of it. I'll find that book of sonnets we were looking at yesterday. Or I could read to you from _Glenarvon_, if you like."

With some surprise, Kurt realized that Blaine was nervous. Their talk of discovery and betrayal had served as an ice bath for Kurt, and he now felt clear-headed if not entirely at ease. Blaine instead seemed to have grown uncertain, as if he wished to please but did not know how.

Kurt well knew the feeling. He stood up and said "I am not in the mood to read. I thought you might teach me the waltz."

"What, here?"

"What better place? We have a floor with room enough for one couple, and a most respectable chaperone." Kurt nodded to the statue of Diana, and was pleased to see a brief smile on Blaine's lips.

"You do not think it too dangerous?" Blaine asked.

"We should be safe enough, with Lady Susan in London." Not so long ago Kurt would have considered the waltz very daring, but it seemed tame compared to what they had nearly done today. It was no crime for two men to practice a dance together, at least. He placed his hands on Blaine's shoulders and said "Do we begin like this?"

"Only your left hand on my shoulder for the first figure, and my right hand on yours." Blaine matched his actions to his words. "Then I clasp your other hand, like so."

"And when do you clasp my waist?"

"I do not need to," Blaine answered quickly. "Not if you do not want me to."

"I asked you to teach me," said Kurt. "If I am to shock Lima society with this scandalous dance, I want to learn it properly. Besides," he added with a smile. "I like it when you hold me. I like to be close to you, Blaine. I like it when we kiss, and when you touch me. I am not afraid of any of that. I am not afraid of dancing. You may put your hands on my waist, just not...not below."

"As you wish," said Blaine. He removed his hand from Kurt's shoulder and placed it lightly on his waist. "I will not venture south of Hadrian's Wall."

"Surely that is the Midlands."

"This is not even Yorkshire," said Blaine. "But I will retreat to Aberdeen if you command it."

"No, it is all right." Kurt dropped his head and sighed. "I am a poor kind of lover for you."

"I do not want any other."

"You want more than a waltzing partner, though."

"Many times have I wished for a waltzing partner, never hoping to find one as charming as you," said Blaine. "Or as tall. I am not accustomed to having to look up at my partner. Now, where were we?"

"The first figure."

"Back to Aberdeen, then." Blaine returned his right hand to Kurt's shoulder. "I'll walk you through the other steps, and then we can change places."

They passed the rest of the morning in this manner, dancing in the temple of the goddess.


	43. A Late Night Visit

**Author's Note:** Here I am at last with an update. I've had some health problems recently but also suffered from terrible writer's block with this chapter, wasting a lot of time on scenes that just didn't work the way I wanted them to work. I finally decided that whatever I had by Tuesday night was getting posted, whether I was satisfied with it or not. I know I've lost readers due to being such a slow writer, especially since my updates slowed down during a relatively sedate portion of the story, so I appreciate those of you who've stuck with me.

Since this is a very AU fic I have tried not to treat the central relationship as too much of a foregone conclusion. Of course since this is a Klaine fic we all know that's exactly what it is, but it was important to me to give them some quiet time together as a couple and get to know each other better. Although I've been writing this story for more than two years (!), in-universe Kurt and Blaine first met only a few months ago. That said, my intent is that this will be the last of these quiet chapters.

There's some discussion of marriage in this chapter, so I have a few notes on English marriage laws of the time. Anyone under the age of 21 needed parental consent to marry. A license was not required, but purchasing a license allowed a couple to skip the three-week public reading of the banns (see note for chapter 28). A special license was more expensive and had to be requested from the Archbishop of Canterbury. These were mostly status symbols (Mrs. Bennett in _Pride & Prejudice_ is delighted that one of her daughters will marry by special license), but also allowed the couple to have the ceremony performed somewhere other than their local church. Couples who were underage or in a hurry could also try eloping to Scotland, which had less restrictive marriage laws. Gretna Green, a Scottish village close to the border, was a popular choice for quickie weddings.

Blaine's speech about the Emperor Hadrian is romanticized (if Miss Berry were present in this chapter then she would surely mention the emperor's cruelty towards the Jews), but rooted in fact. My main source for information on this topic is Elizabeth Speller's _Following Hadrian_.

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><p>By day, Kurt and Blaine were their own masters and amused themselves as they liked. Nights were a different matter. From the time the gong interrupted their pre-dinner kisses to the time they withdrew for bed, they were obligated to attend to Lady Dalton.<p>

She was not a difficult lady to please. She merely wished to be shielded from any stimulus that might upset her nerves. This meant no music after dinner, no charades or acting of scenes, no games that involved loud voices or physical exertion. For entertainment they might play cards, as long as Lady Dalton did not lose too often, read, as long as Lady Dalton did not grow bored, or converse, as long as the topic was one of the few that Lady Dalton found tolerable.

During these long evenings, Kurt often found his thoughts turning to Lima. Though he dreaded the day when he and Blaine must part, he missed his family. He missed the cheerful meals they shared together. He missed gathering in the parlor afterward for games and songs. Often they were joined by friends, but even when it was only a family party there were enough for a table of whist or a sing-along around the pianoforte. Or they might simply sit before the fire and talk of everyday matters. At times Kurt had found it dull to listen once more to Finley telling the same humorous anecdote about his commanding officer, his stepmother sharing the same bit of gossip about a neighbor, or his father explaining the same plan for improving the estate, and had wished himself in another place with new companions who had new and different stories to share. By the end of his first week at Dalton Abbey he had developed a better appreciation for his family. Even the endless tale of the enormous fish his father had once _almost_ caught would be preferable to hearing Lady Dalton talk about her pugs.

"I turned around and saw that he had tumbled right onto the floor, the poor baby!" She clutched Zeus to her bosom and added, as she always did when repeating this story, "You should have seen his little paws waving in the air!"

Kurt forced a laugh and offered his usual response: "What a sight that must have been!" Lady Dalton normally took this as an invitation to continue recounting the inconsequential adventures of her dogs, but on this occasion she segued into a topic that Kurt found still more distasteful.

"They are such darling creatures," she said. "I will give one to your wife, Blaine, so that she will always have a source of amusement."

"I expect she will need one," Blaine replied.

"Indeed she will, with such a curmudgeon for a husband! I hope that Miss Pierce is a good-natured girl. If not, you had best find another."

Blaine ignored this, so Kurt answered for him. "I found Miss Pierce to be very even tempered," he said. "She is quite fond of animals as well."

"How delightful," said Lady Dalton. "And what of her person? Is she dark or fair?"

"One might take her for your sister, my lady," said Kurt. "She has golden hair like yours."

Lady Dalton giggled at this. "Oh Mr. Hummel, I hope you do not think me so vain that I would expect my nephew to marry a woman who resembled me!" Kurt suspected that she was exactly that vain, but allowed her to continue. "It is the children I am thinking of," she said. "They need not be...exotic looking, not if their mother is a fair English rose. My Apollo's granddam was black as ink, yet you would never know to look at him." She stroked the dog's round head and cooed "You're a pretty golden boy, aren't you? Yes you are!"

"I pray that my children will resemble me as little as possible," said Blaine. "Ideally they should be so fair and English-looking that the neighbors will question my wife's faithfulness."

"They will question how she endures your sarcasm," Lady Dalton replied. "She will need to possess the patience of a saint."

"I quite agree," said Blaine. "I hope not to marry until I can find a lady who is able to tolerate a great deal."

"You hope not to marry until Doomsday."

Blaine shrugged his shoulders. "There is much that I still wish to do while I have a bachelor's freedom."

"I have never seen you do anything that you could not do just as easily with a wife," Lady Dalton said.

Kurt pressed his lips together and turned towards the fireplace. Had Lady Dalton any notion of how he and Blaine had been passing the time then she might better understand her nephew's reluctance to marry. However, she was correct insofar as they had thus far done little that Blaine _couldn't_ have done with a wife. True to his word, Blaine respected the boundary of "Hadrian's Wall". His hands sometimes ran down Kurt's back or clasped his waist, but wandered no lower. More often they reached upward instead, cradling Kurt's neck as they kissed. Strange that this, more than the locked door, should make Kurt feel safe.

He knew that this feeling was deceptive. Even shut up inside the green bedroom, drapes pulled across the windows, they were not safe. What freedom they enjoyed depended upon total secrecy. That was why they dressed for dinner before meeting in the evening, and remained dressed during these most private encounters. They might remove their jackets, but no more. When the gong rang it was easy enough to help each other back into their dinner jackets before hurrying down the stairs. Properly wrapping and tying a neckcloth was a more considered process and could not be rushed. The small buttons of a waistcoat also took time to fasten. Lady Dalton must not be left waiting outside the dining room for so long. If she came looking then she would surely find them, and that meant disaster. The pleasure of embracing in a state of undress was not worth such a risk.

A pleasure it must be, though, to feel the warmth of Blaine's body and the rhythm of his heartbeat through the thin fabric of his shirt. And if that was a pleasure then surely it would be more pleasant still to have nothing between them at all. Kurt blushed at the thought, and hoped that Lady Dalton would attribute his color to the heat of the fire.

"I have always wanted to travel," Blaine was saying. "Father objected to my going on the Grand Tour, but I do not mean to settle down until I have seen something of the world."

"If you go to Paris, you must bring me back a new hat," said Lady Dalton. "Perhaps Mr. Hummel could accompany you; he is clever about such things. You would have a companion then as well. That is why I always travel with two dogs." Lady Dalton pulled a squirming Apollo onto her lap beside Zeus. "They can play with one another whenever I am occupied with other things."

She began telling a story about her pugs at play, which in turn reminded her of yet another story. She continued on in this vein until the chiming of the clock forced her to take note of the time. Lady Dalton then pronounced herself quite exhausted, scolded the two young gentlemen for keeping her up so late, and declared that it was time for them all to retire.

Kurt and Blaine lingered at the top of the stairs, reluctant to bid each other good night. "When do you plan to make this trip to Paris?" Kurt asked.

"I have not decided on Paris yet," Blaine replied. "There are many cities that interest me. Barcelona. Geneva. Rome. Athens. Cairo."

"Lima."

"The jewel of Hampshire," Blaine said with a smile. "Yes, of course I wish to visit Lima as well."

"When do you think you will come?" Kurt asked. "After Easter?"

"No sooner than that, I fear. The Derby is not until the end of May, and then there is Ascot."

This was not the answer that Kurt had hoped for. "Do you care so much for horseracing?"

"My father does. If I am not with him then he will expect me to be busy with balls and parties."

"I suppose you will dance with many young ladies," said Kurt.

Before he answered, Blaine glanced at the corridor behind him. Lady Dalton had already disappeared into her chamber. They were alone. He turned back to Kurt and in a hushed voice said "I would rather dance with you than any lady in the world."

"Then come to me."

"I will, as soon as I am able."

Kurt shook his head. "Tonight," he said, surprised by his own boldness. "Come to me tonight."

Judging by his expression, Blaine was no less surprised. "Is that what you want?"

"I do not mean for us to do anything that we should not," Kurt said quickly. There were limits to his daring. "I only want for us to be together, every moment that we can."

"As do I," Blaine said. "Give me an hour. My aunt should be asleep by then." He pressed Kurt's hand and added in a louder voice "Good night, Mr. Hummel. Pleasant dreams."

"You too, Mr. Anderson. Good night."

Kurt spent much of the next hour deciding how he should be dressed when Blaine arrived. He knew that he was not handsome enough to appear to best advantage without the help of elegant clothing. He had seen himself in the glass often enough when preparing for bed. Stripped of his waistcoat and jacket, he looked pale, thin, and unfinished. Blaine, with his dark hair and broad shoulders, would probably look well in only his shirt. He would probably look well in nothing at all, a distracting thought that did nothing to help Kurt with the decision at hand.

Ultimately he settled upon his dressing gown as the most alluring costume for a late-night_ tête-à-tête_. He fastened it over his shirt and looked at himself critically in the mirror. The gown itself was elegant enough, although Kurt wished that it would not seem absurd to add a cravat. A touch of color near the face was always flattering for one with a fair complexion. At least his neck was long enough to pass for elegant even when unadorned.

A soft knock at the door announced Blaine's arrival. He too was dressed in a robe, the banyan he had come to breakfast in on the day of Lady Dalton's arrival. Kurt had not seen it since, though the image had often returned to his mind. If anything Blaine looked even more charming by candlelight. He might have been some foreign prince out of a storybook. Yet when he spoke, he was thoroughly English.

"Good evening, Mr. Hummel," he said, a faint smile on his lips. "I hope I have not kept you waiting."

"Not at all, Mr. Anderson," said Kurt in the same mock formal tone. "Do come inside." He locked the door behind them while Blaine set down his candle. Only then could they greet one another properly, with a kiss.

When Blaine's hand touched his neck, Kurt found himself glad that he had not worn a cravat after all. Though the gesture was familiar, for the first time there were no gloves, collars, or neckcloths between them. Blaine's palm felt hot and slightly damp against Kurt's bare skin. His lips, too, were warm and wet. They kissed slowly, deeply, for tonight there was no need to rush.

They did, however, still need to pause to draw breath. "You will not pay such calls when you are in London, I trust," said Kurt after their lips had parted.

Though he had spoken in jest, Kurt saw Blaine's expression grow grave. "I do not go to town for my own pleasure," he said. "I have a duty to my father. Please do not be jealous, Kurt. Please, I cannot bear it."

"I'm not," Kurt protested, surprised by this reaction. While he did rather envy Blaine the opportunity of spending the Season in London, he had not intended for his words to be taken so seriously. "I meant only that I will miss you. Come, you must admit that it will be harder for me than for you. Your duty will leave you with all the amusements of the city at your disposal. After my brother's wedding has passed, there will be little enough in Lima to distract me from thoughts of you. I'll wait for you like a good soldier's wife." Kurt sat down on the side of the bed and, in a lighter tone, said "Miss Fabray and I will be two of a kind. We'll sit and sew dresses for her children and gossip about the neighbors while our men are away."

Blaine did not smile at this as Kurt had hoped, though his expression did soften. "You are fortunate to have good friends and family who love you," he said. "You must not pin your happiness on things that cannot be."

That they could never marry Kurt well understood. He also understood that there were certain privileges that might be granted even without the blessing of the Church, privileges he had refused Blaine. He had no doubt that this was the wisest and most prudent course of action. Still, Finley and Miss Fabray had not waited to be married. While Miss Fabray's present condition, and the many worries occasioned by it, was unenviable, she would soon know all the joys of marriage and motherhood. As for Finley, he had suffered little enough as a consequence of their folly...if folly it was. Kurt did not know what lesson he ought to take from the example of his brother and sister-to-be.

Neither did he know what answer it was that he hoped to hear in response to his next question. "Blaine," he began. "Do you mind very much about—about Hadrian's Wall?"

"I do not dare defy the emperor," Blaine replied.

This seemed to Kurt no answer at all, but he decided not to press the matter. "Was Hadrian very fierce?" he asked instead.

"He could be, when angered. Do you know much of his life, my dearest?"

"He liked to travel about. He built his wall in the North Country. He wore a beard. If there is more to know than that then you must tell me," said Kurt, though in truth his mind was not on history.

"Hadrian was not born in the purple," Blaine said. "His people were from the Spanish provinces, though his father was cousin to the Emperor Trajan. Hadrian himself married a niece of Trajan's. It was a political match. There were no children of their union, but they did not need them. An emperor was free to choose his own heir. His own companions, too. He had as his favorite a beautiful Greek youth named Antinous. When he died, Hadrian is said to have wept for him like a woman."

Blaine paused for a moment, and Kurt felt compelled to ask "How did he die?"

"By drowning. Antinous had accompanied Hadrian on his journey to Egypt, and one night fell from the royal barge into the Nile. It was an accident, though there were rumors of suicide and even black magic. Yet no one could doubt the emperor's grief. He spent the last years of his own life in mourning. He raised a city in Antinous's name, commissioned statues in his likeness, and finally declared him a god."

Such a tale would have struck Kurt as too fanciful to be believed had he read it in a novel, but Blaine was a learned man. Kurt trusted that what he said was true. "What sort of god was he?"

"One like Adonis, or Dionysus, or Osiris of the Egyptians. Antinous became a patron of love and beauty, death and rebirth. He was worshipped until the time of Constantine."

"I wish that I had gone to university," Kurt said. "You must find it dull to explain these things to me."

"I find it far easier to explain the lives of the emperors than I do to explain myself." Blaine sighed. "I am trying to tell you what I know about love." He sat down on the bed next to Kurt but made no move to touch him. "Love cannot make us free," he said. "It cannot change the law or stop time or ward off death, yet neither is it bound by these forces. Hadrian loved Antinous despite everything, just as I love you. I should not speak so when I am not free to match words with deeds, but if I could, if such a thing were possible, I would gladly ask for your hand. If you would have me, I would run away with you to Gretna Green this very night."

"Of course I would have you. I love you, Blaine." Kurt felt tears welling up in his eyes, though he did not know himself whether they were tears of joy at what was or sorrow at what would never be. "Though I could not elope even for your sake," he said, struggling to regain his composure. "Lest the neighbors gossip about _me_. I would insist upon a license."

Blaine raised his hand to Kurt's face and brushed away a tear with his thumb. "A special license, since we are dreaming. Then we might marry anywhere." In a voice little more than a whisper, he added "I wish it could be so."

"A dear friend of mine once told me not to pin my happiness on things that cannot be."

"He sounds insufferable."

"He used to drive me mad," Kurt said. "He had a terrible habit of talking when I wanted him to kiss me."

Blaine started to lean towards him, then hesitated. "Shall I blow the candles out?" he asked.

"No," Kurt said, placing a hand on Blaine's shoulder. "I want to look at you."


	44. In the Green Bedroom

**Author's Note:** When I posted the last chapter I knew it would be a while before I'd have the chance to update again, but I didn't think it would be _this_ long. For reasons both good and bad it's been a very busy few months for me, although even when I had time to write I struggled with this chapter. I've known what was going to happen in this chapter since very early on, but I wound up writing and re-writing it many times and eventually realized I was trying to avoid a part of the story that I didn't _want_ to write. It took several more attempts to force myself through it. The chapter could probably stand to be more polished than it is, but I felt like if I put this off any longer then I'd never update at all.

The opening lines of this chapter are a paraphrase of the first lines of chapter 48 of _Mansfield Park_. The poem quoted here is by Elizabethan poet Thomas Campion, and is known as "Cherry Ripe" or "There is a Garden in Her Face".

I have no major historic notes, although I did want to mention that if Kurt and Blaine seem a little prudish about removing their shirts it's because during the Regency a shirt was considered an undergarment. Those of you who've seen the 1995 BBC version of _Pride and Prejudice_ will remember that Mr. Darcy didn't even remove his shirt when he went swimming.

* * *

><p>Let other pens dwell on scenes of intimacy. I quit such subjects as soon as I can, impatient to return to meaningful conversation. A catalog of the caresses shared by our heroes can be of no benefit to the reader. It may be safely assumed that they were of a nature and number sufficient to leave both parties eager to continue the practice of late-night calls for the remainder of Kurt's stay at Dalton Abbey. Being young, healthy, and with ample leisure time for afternoon naps, they suffered little from keeping late hours. Three nights passed before they had another conversation worth recording.<p>

"Your ear," said Blaine. "Does not greatly resemble a shell."

"Is it meant to?" Kurt asked.

They were lying together on the bed in their shirtsleeves. Their robes were draped over the back of a chair, having been thrown there in the wordless but exciting interval shortly after Blaine's arrival. Kurt was draped over Blaine's chest, a position that seemed to him ideal for cuddling and less well suited to a discourse on mollusks. However, he trusted that Blaine had introduced the subject only as a prelude to some new amusement.

"So the poets say," Blaine replied. "I have often read that the ear of one's lover is like unto a shell. I suppose shells may be pink and finely curved." Blaine reached up to trace his fingers around Kurt's ear, the fine curves of which were growing very pink indeed. "But they are cold, brittle things with no life in them. You are everywhere soft and lovely." His other hand slipped inside the open neck of Kurt's shirt to caress his shoulder. "Like a sweet, white peach."

Kurt shivered slightly at the touch of Blaine's hand, and the thought of Blaine's lips. "You sound as though you mean to eat me."

"A heavenly paradise is that place, wherein all pleasant fruits do grow," Blaine murmured. "There cherries grow that none may buy, 'til 'cherry ripe' themselves do cry."

"More poetry," Kurt said. He recognized the quotation, though it was from a poem that he had never particularly cared for. The metaphor of cherries speaking had always seemed distinctly unappealing to him, though this was not what troubled him now. The line reminded him of that man in Bath, Captain Karofsky. He had wanted to buy what was not for sale. Worse, he had stolen a kiss that should have been Kurt's to give. These were unpleasant thoughts and Kurt did not wish to dwell upon them. Better to think of how solicitous Blaine had been the night of the concert, after Kurt was accosted by Captain Karofsky, or how bravely he had confronted the Captain when they met again at the Pump Room. Though his actions had been rash, Kurt could not help loving Blaine for his courage and passionate heart.

"I confess I do not have a gift for words," Blaine replied. "I am a singer, not a poet. When I wish to speak prettily to you, I must parrot the words of wiser men. Will you pet me and call me your clever boy?"

Kurt smiled at this, for he also loved Blaine's playfulness. "You are my darling, clever boy," he said. "I only hope that reading so much poetry had not given you too many odd ideas. Are you disappointed to find me neither as round nor as red as a cherry?"

Blaine pressed a kiss to the tender spot behind Kurt's ear, his tongue flicking against the earlobe. "I find you delicious, as always," he said. "I hope that you are not disappointed in me. My shape and color fall somewhat short of perfection." He spoke lightly, but there was a note of wistfulness in his tone.

"Nonsense." Kurt turned onto his side, to better look at Blaine. "You are perfect to me."

"I am dark, compared to you."

"If you were light compared to me, you would be as pale as a ghost! I like that you have some color."

"I am shorter than you as well," Blaine said.

"We seem much the same height when lying down."

He felt Blaine's foot hook around his ankle. "Not exactly the same."

"Near enough," Kurt replied. "Besides, I have not your strength or your skill at fencing." He traced his fingers over Blaine's arm, feeling the firm muscles through the white cloth of his shirt. How strange it seemed, strange and wonderful, that Blaine's body should be so like his own and at the same time so different. "Had I not the advantage of height, I might be quite frightened of you."

"Are you not frightened of me, then?"

"No, my brave cavalier. Do you wish to frighten me?"

"I wish only to devote my sword to your service." Blaine placed his hand on Kurt's side. "Yet you keep me banished to the north."

"That is for your own protection," Kurt said. "And mine as well. You know that."

Blaine's hand slid down to rest in the curve of Kurt's waist. "My father will be home in a few days."

"And your aunt is here now," Kurt said, placing his own hand firmly on top of Blaine's.

"Not here, thank God!" Blaine chuckled. He pulled his hand free and moved it to Kurt's back, up high between his shoulder blades. "She is away in her chamber with her pugs."

"Near enough," Kurt said again, and sighed. A month ago he had hoped for nothing more than for Blaine to kiss him. A week ago he had scarcely dared to imagine lying with Blaine like this. He had little expected that these late-night calls, rather than satisfying his hunger for Blaine's touch, would only serve to whet his appetite for more. He scarcely understood what that meant, but he understood the danger. "I am not frightened of you, darling, but I am afraid."

Blaine looked at him for a long moment, his eyes so dark in the candlelight that they seemed bottomless. "I wish that I were strong enough to protect you from the world," he said. "There are places, though, where we might be safe from prying eyes. If we could be alone, without my father or my aunt to trouble us, would you still be afraid?"

Kurt hesitated before answering. He remembered his fantasy of the bluebell woods, of lying down with Blaine among the blossoms, completely surrounded by beauty. He thought of his bed at home, comfortable and familiar, and imagined Blaine tucked under the blankets beside him. He would be nervous, he thought, as he might be nervous about any new endeavor. He would not want to look ridiculous or disappoint Blaine. Still, nervousness was not fear. It was more akin to excitement. Kurt had already trusted Blaine with the secrets of his heart. Why should he guard the secrets of his body more dearly?

"If we were somewhere safe, I do not think that I would be frightened," he said. "When you come to me in Lima—"

"Must it be Lima?" Blaine asked. "Could we not meet somewhere else?"

"What do you mean?" Kurt wondered if Blaine knew of a meeting place between Dalton and Lima, some charming little cottage where they might spend a few days undisturbed. It seemed a pleasant notion.

"I have come up with a scheme," said Blaine. "You must tell me what you think of it. Father would have to agree of course, but I think I can persuade him. He is pleased with me now, thanks to you, and if all goes well then after the Season he should be in a mood to grant me a favor. Our house in Bath sits empty much of the year. We used to rent it out, before it became so fashionable to go to the seaside. I do not think Father would object to it being put to use more often. We might stay there together when I am not needed here."

"That sounds wonderful," Kurt said. Lord Dalton's house in the Royal Crescent was certainly more elegant than a cottage in the country. However, it was also a two days' journey from Lima.

"We'd do all the things that you enjoy," Blaine continued. "I'd take you to Molland's every day. I'd take you to the shops, to concerts, to the theater, as often as you like. And afterward," he added in a lower voice. "I'd take you home to bed, so that I might learn what else you enjoy."

Such a suggestion, particularly spoken in such a tone, was thrilling enough that Kurt nearly forgot the objection he had been about to make. "But darling," he said, recovering himself. "I cannot go to Bath as often or easily as you can. I have no carriage of my own."

"I do not mean for you to travel back and forth like a mail coach," said Blaine, smiling. "You will stay in Bath as my guest. Father might even pay to have you look after the property. If not, well, I have some money of my own. I can afford to keep you."

"Keep me?" Kurt pushed himself up into a sitting position. "Blaine, I do not need to be kept. I have a home. Why can you not come to me there?"

"It will be easier for me to go to Bath."

"Why? Whenever we speak of this you make it sound as if traveling to Lima would be difficult, but it is not. You could drive there yourself in a day, just as easily as you could drive to Bath."

"The distance is not the problem," Blaine said, sitting up.

"What is it, then?" Kurt felt the heat rising to his face. Could Blaine be ashamed of Kurt's connections? He had always been polite to Mr. and Mrs. Hummel and Finley, but Kurt knew his family must seem unsophisticated compared to Lord Dalton's circle. "While Hartfield House is not as grand as Dalton Abbey, we have room enough for guests."

"I am sure you do," Blaine said. "Yet how many times do you think I could visit you there before it began to seem suspicious? I can contrive some reason to visit Bath, for business or for pleasure, but what is there to draw me to Lima except you?"

"Am I not reason enough?"

"You are reason enough for me. I need another explanation to offer to my father."

"I cannot think such a thing requires any special explanation," said Kurt. "I have certainly heard of gentlemen paying visits to their friends before. I would not even be your only acquaintance in Lima. You could say you wish to congratulate my brother on his marriage, or pay your respects to Lady Susan. You could even say that you wish to see Miss Berry again!"

Blaine shook his head. "No good could come of that."

"I do not mean that you should actually pursue her! Only that you might imply that your thoughts were running in that direction, if it would help to ease your father's suspicions."

"While it is possible that he would not object to my seeking a mistress in Lima, I could hardly expect my wife to be so understanding."

Kurt stared at him. "Your wife? Blaine, you do not have a wife."

"Not at present," Blaine said. "But by the spring—"

"God, what are you saying?" Kurt cried.

Blaine raised his eyebrows. "I know you do not like to speak of it, but dearest, you know that I must marry."

Though he spoke softly, his words hit Kurt like a blow to the stomach. "No," he said, struggling to control his voice. "I did not know that. When, pray, did you intend to tell me of your impending nuptials?"

"I did tell you," Blaine protested. "How many times have I said that my family expects me to take a wife? You've heard yourself how my aunt goes on about it."

"I had not realized you valued her opinion so much."

"Even my aunt is not so great a fool as to be wrong about everything," said Blaine. "I have a duty, like it or not."

He reached for Kurt, but was brushed away. Kurt did not wish to be touched. He could not even bear to sit beside Blaine any longer. He rose from the bed with as much dignity as he could muster and said "I cannot think it your duty to betray me, or to make false vows to another."

"I am my father's heir."

"What of it? I am my father's heir as well."

"That is not the same. Your father is not—"

"He is not what?" Kurt snapped. "A gentleman? Our estate may not be a large one, but it is as fine and ancient as any in the county. Or did you mean to say that my father is not a _nobleman_?"

"You do not know what it is like for me, Kurt."

"No, I suppose not," said Kurt. "How could a commoner like myself hope to understand the son of a baron? Considering my inferior birth, I suppose I should be grateful to you for your generous offer to keep me in Bath as what, your mistress?"

"You could hardly be that," Blaine said, in an infuriatingly calm tone.

"What am I to you, then?" Kurt demanded. "Your cicisbeo? Your whore?"

"Kurt, please. You're being unreasonable."

"Damn you and your reason!" Kurt rarely used such coarse language, but he was rarely this angry. That Blaine did not respect him as a gentleman was offensive enough. That he had made Kurt a proposition that would have been an insult to any lady was more than could be endured. Kurt had thought Blaine a gentleman far superior to the likes of Captain Karofsky, and was sickened to find they had more in common than he had imagined.

"Perhaps I should go."

"Perhaps you should." Kurt snatched the blue banyan from the chair and threw it towards Blaine. "Get out."

This at last seemed to shatter Blaine's composure. He clasped the crumpled gown to his chest, his face growing red. "I was only trying to find a way for us to be together!" he said, his voice sounding thick and too loud. "Isn't that what you wanted? You keep telling me that you want to stay together, but we cannot live in some fantasy!"

"Get out!"

This time Blaine did not reply. He rose from the bed, tossed the robe over one shoulder, and strode towards the door. Kurt would not turn to watch him go. His eyes remained fixed on the wall as he heard Blaine turn the key in the lock. The door creaked open and then closed again. The house was quiet this late at night, and Kurt could hear the footsteps in the hall as Blaine walked away.


	45. A Morning Without Breakfast

**Author's Note:** My body has been conspiring against me again, and I've had to type most of this chapter out very slowly while in a wrist brace. Fortunately I knew exactly what needed to happen in this chapter…mostly because it's very heavily borrowed from Jane Austen, including some of the specific wording. Those of you who've read _Northanger Abbey_ probably won't be surprised by _what_ happens, although I hope that you won't guess exactly _why_ it has happened until all is revealed in a future chapter.

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><p>The housemaid's folding back the window-shutters at eight o'clock the next day was the sound which first roused Kurt. He opened his eyes, wondering that they could ever have been closed. The turmoil of the previous evening had left him in a state hardly conducive to sleep. After Blaine left him, Kurt had lain awake for hours, sometimes weeping into his pillow and sometimes too angry for tears.<p>

He had never been treated with such disrespect. Even Captain Karofsky's behavior towards him, frightening as it had been, paled in comparison to Blaine's offense. Captain Karofsky had not known Kurt for a gentleman when they first met upon the street; he had mistaken him for some poor wretch already reduced to selling his favors. While his later behavior at the Pump Room was inexcusable, at least it was not a betrayal of trust. The Captain had never been Kurt's friend and companion. Blaine had told Kurt that he loved him, had said that he would marry him if he could, when all the while he was planning to marry another. He had even claimed to believe that Kurt was aware of his intentions! Yet as often as Blaine had spoken of his duty to his father and his obligations in town, he had said nothing to Kurt about taking a wife since their quarrel about Miss Berry.

Indeed, Kurt had understood Blaine to have come around to his own opinion on the matter. A man should not marry a woman he was incapable of loving as a husband ought to love his wife. Lord Dalton might wish his son to provide an heir, but Blaine was his own master and willing enough to defy his father's expectations when it suited him. He certainly had not proposed carrying on an affair with Kurt in order to please his father. Blaine had been thinking not of his duty, but of his own pleasure.

Hurt as he was by this dishonesty and selfishness, Kurt had to admit that Blaine had thought of his pleasure as well. His proposal had included the promise of amusements both public and private. The former were readily available in Bath, and the latter might be enjoyed there as easily as anywhere. More easily, if they were to share the townhouse with only the necessary servants.

Kurt glared at the back of the maid's head. She little deserved his resentment, being at that moment entirely occupied with building up the fire for his comfort, but still he was glad when she finished her duties. He wished to be alone. He felt ashamed to think how tempted he had been by Blaine's offer, before he realized all it entailed. Such was the danger of lust. Blaine had said that it was not wrong to share pleasure with another, but surely it was wrong to swear false vows or abandon one's family and responsibilities for the wanton pursuit of pleasure.

As Kurt performed his morning ablutions, he wondered whether he ought to go down to breakfast. Were Lady Dalton to sense a fresh quarrel between the two gentlemen then she must suspect that they had met in the night, for she had seen them part on good terms the evening before. Kurt decided it was best to remain in his room. Let Lady Dalton think that he was ill. He had certainly been ill-treated. Blaine would know why Kurt did not appear, and would know where to find him if he wished to offer an apology.

He would of course allow Blaine to apologize. Kurt was angry, not heartless. Blaine had insulted him, deceived him, and wounded his pride, but love could survive worse indignities. If Blaine recognized the error of his ways and repented then Kurt was prepared to forgive him. He intended to be cold at first, to show that his good graces were not easily won, but he would permit Blaine to clasp his hand. Once he had sworn that he would never marry another, Kurt might even allow himself to be kissed.

Though these thoughts were more enjoyable than those that had filled his mind during the night, the satisfaction of knowing himself to be completely in the right was not enough to keep Kurt amused for an entire morning. First he busied himself by tending to his wardrobe, brushing each of his jackets and checking that everything was in good repair. His usual tidiness ensured that these small tasks were soon completed. He then sat down to write a letter to his father.

This project, while easily begun, proved more difficult to complete. After the opening salutation Kurt wrote "I hope this letter finds you well" and then found himself at a loss as to how to continue. In his last letter he had written that he was having a very pleasant time at Dalton Abbey, that the house was grand and the grounds extensive, and that Mr. Anderson had been teaching him some fashionable dance steps. To restate this seemed a waste of postage, yet there was little he could say that was both new and honest. He could perhaps tell his father "I have had a disagreement with Mr. Anderson," but would be unable to provide any further explanation. He certainly could not write "I am passionately in love with Mr. Anderson, though he does make me very angry at times," and were he to pen the words "Mr. Anderson has been joining me in my chamber each night so that we might kiss without being disturbed, and last night while lying in bed together we had a terrible argument about whether he should keep me as his cicisbeo" then he might give his father apoplexy.

There came then a knock at the door. Kurt set aside his pen and paper, happy to have an interruption and happier still to think that this quarrel must soon be ended. Blaine would not have come at so early an hour, when Kurt might still be only half-dressed, to begin their quarrel again. Kurt decided that after Blaine had made his apologies then Kurt was prepared to grant that he had perhaps been overly harsh in his reaction the night before. While the arrangement Blaine had proposed was dishonorable and demeaning, in a certain sense it was flattering that he was so eager to not only continue but strengthen their intimacy.

Such were Kurt's thoughts as he walked to the door, but upon opening it he was astonished to find not Blaine but a stranger – a servant, by his dress. The surprise must have shown on Kurt's face, for the man said "Her ladyship sent me to attend to you, sir."

"That will not be necessary," said Kurt. "I feel well enough to tend to my own needs this morning. As you can see, I am already dressed."

"Do you not want assistance with packing, sir?"

"Packing?" Kurt asked, puzzled. "I had not planned on an outing."

"I am sorry, sir, I thought you knew. The family is joining Lord Dalton in London. The carriage has been ordered to take you to the post-stage in the village. Shall I see to your clothing, sir?"

"Yes, thank you," said Kurt in a faltering voice.

He was being sent away. Turned from the house, without any reason that could justify or apology that could atone for the abruptness or inconvenience of it. The present day was Sunday. Whether it was a summons from Lord Dalton or some fancy of Lady Dalton's that prompted the trip to London, Blaine and his aunt were unlikely to set out sooner than Monday. Only the gravest emergency could necessitate their earlier departure, and the servant, who was already busy moving Kurt's jackets and waistcoats from the wardrobe to his trunk, seemed unconcerned for the health of his master.

That Kurt should be sent from Dalton Abbey at the earliest possible date, at nearly the earliest possible hour, could only mean that he was no longer welcome. He could see but two possible explanations for this. Either Blaine was casting him off, or they had been discovered.

As he began to gather up his comb, razor, and other personal effects, Kurt's mind was busily considering these possibilities. Blaine had been angry when they parted, as angry as Kurt had ever seen him. Perhaps the morning had found him no calmer. Was it not said that "Heaven has no rage like love to hatred turned, nor hell a fury like a woman scorned"? Though Blaine was not a woman, he had been scorned. He might have decided that if Kurt would not be kept then he might as well be gone.

Kurt's eyes fell upon his silver pocketwatch, the one that Blaine had given to him in Bath. He picked it up and read the two inscriptions, the message of friendship on the back and the message of love hidden inside the cover: "A thing of beauty is a joy forever." When Blaine had purchased the watch he had thought that he and Kurt would soon be parted, and yet he had chosen a quotation that spoke of the lasting happiness that their shared secret would bring them. Could these be the words of a gentleman quick to abandon love? Kurt could not think it so.

This left the second possibility, hardly less terrible. Their love was meant to remain a secret, hidden from public view like the line of poetry inscribed in Kurt's watch, but somehow they had betrayed themselves or been betrayed. Perhaps Blaine had been in such a temper last night that he had wakened Lady Dalton while returning to his room. Perhaps their quarrel had been overheard by the lady herself or some spying servant. It was even possible that some previous assignation had been reported to Lord Dalton via the mail, with his reply arriving only this morning. Blaine had promised to protect Kurt if they were discovered, but Kurt understood that this would require the sacrifice of their friendship. Lord Dalton must believe Blaine a repentant sinner and Kurt his unwilling victim. They could not meet again, lest it be through some arrangement still more dishonorable than that which Kurt had already refused.

"It was Lady Dalton who sent you to me?" Kurt asked the footman in as casual a tone as he could manage.

The man paused in his folding of a shirt. "Yes, sir."

"I should take my leave of her. Is she still breakfasting?"

"No, sir. She gave me my instructions and went back upstairs."

"What of Mr. Anderson?"

"I do not know, sir. I have not seen him this morning."

Kurt thanked the footman and left him to finish packing the trunk. He had to find Blaine before it was too late. He could not expect to have another chance to speak to him, and Blaine had already warned him of the dangers of committing their true thoughts to paper. If Blaine no longer loved him, Kurt would no more wish to remain at Dalton Abbey than Blaine would to keep him there. Yet if Blaine still loved him despite everything, just as he had promised, then Kurt would not have their last words to each other be angry ones.

He raced down the long hallway to the West Wing of the Abbey, still clutching the pocketwatch. He came to a sudden stop when he saw Lady Dalton emerging from her chamber. She did not notice him immediately, being occupied with the pug struggling in her arms.

"Who's a good boy?" she cooed. "You're Mummy's good boy!"

Kurt considered turning and running back the way he had come. Yet while he would have preferred to avoid Lady Dalton, perhaps it was better to speak to her first. He might judge from her behavior whether his banishment was at Blaine's request.

"Good morning, madam," he said, still somewhat out of breath.

Lady Dalton looked up from her whining dog with a start. "Mr. Hummel!" she exclaimed. "Are you still here?"

"Yes," he replied, wondering why he had thought that any useful information might be gleaned from the manner of such a silly, self-absorbed woman. "I was just coming to say good-bye to you and Mr. Anderson." He hoped to say good-bye to them separately, but if he could not speak to Blaine alone then they might at least bid each other farewell and clasp hands for the last time.

"Good-bye, then," said Lady Dalton. "I will tell him that you have gone."

She intended, Kurt thought, to prevent him from seeing Blaine. In a way this was encouraging. If Lady Dalton believed that Blaine had behaved inappropriately then she might well wish to protect Kurt from further contact with him, if only for the sake of her family's reputation.

"I meant to speak to him myself."

"Be that as it may, my nephew does not wish to speak to you," said Lady Dalton, and so dashed the last of Kurt's hopes.

Numbly, he looked down at the silver watch in his hand. It was the most expensive gift anyone had ever given him, and in that dreadful moment he realized why. Blaine had intended to buy his affection. _A thing of beauty is a joy forever_. That was all he was to Blaine, a thing. A pet, like Lady Dalton's lapdogs. A toy to be enjoyed for only as long as his beauty lasted.

Kurt held the watch out to her. "Please give this to him for me, then."

"I hardly think—"

"He bought it for me as a souvenir of Bath. I should not have accepted it." Kurt's hand was trembling. He feared that if Lady Dalton would not take the blasted watch from him soon then he would lose his composure altogether.

"Very well." She shifted her pug to one arm and accepted the watch with her free hand. "Is there anything else I can do for you before you go?"

"No, madam," Kurt said. He could not bring himself to thank her for her insincere offer. "I will leave as soon as my luggage is ready."

"Speedy travels then, Mr. Hummel."

The hall seemed even longer than before as Kurt walked back to his guest chamber. The footman had accomplished much during his absence, and it was not long before the last of Kurt's belongings were securely packed away. By the time they had finished carrying his trunk and bags down the stairs Lady Dalton's chaise was waiting for him. There was no one in the front hall to see him off, no final farewells to make.

Kurt slung his satchel over his shoulder and climbed up into the chaise. He was too wretched to dread the length or loneliness of his journey. He leaned back in a corner of the carriage and permitted himself to cry into his handkerchief, and had been conveyed some distance beyond the walls of the Abbey before he raised his head again.

Just an hour or so earlier, Kurt had felt entirely confident in his own judgment. He had not only known himself right to have refused Blaine's proposal, he had fully expected Blaine to beg his forgiveness for making such a suggestion. He had believed that Blaine loved him in the way that he had always hoped to be loved. Now he knew himself to have been badly mistaken. It was a poor kind of love that Blaine had felt for him, if it could fairly be called love at all.

Worse, Kurt could not claim for himself even the cold comfort of having been deceived by clever lies. While Blaine had misled him about his intentions, Kurt had been all too willing to be misled. He had been so charmed by Blaine, so eager for his affection, that he had overlooked what now seemed obvious. When Blaine had spoken to him of great love stories, these had never been tales of a partnership between equals. Instead he had named an emperor and his favorite, a prince and a shepherd, even a goddess and a mortal. From the day they met Blaine had been telling Kurt what he meant by love, and Kurt had refused to hear it.

With his mind so occupied the miles passed by quickly, if unhappily. It seemed little time before the towering spire of Salisbury Cathedral came into view. This city he had known to be his next stage after the village of Dalton. Past that point he was forced to rely upon the post-masters for the names of the places along his route to Lima. Though his private misery made it impossible to enjoy the journey, Kurt was spared any new misfortune along the way. His elegant appearance, civil manners, and liberal pay were enough to secure all the assistance he required.

He reached Ringwood soon after two o'clock. From there on the scenery was familiar to him, though he scarcely paid attention to it. Kurt felt he ought to be glad to know that he would be home in time for dinner, but to return to Lima in such a manner was almost enough to destroy his pleasure in being reunited with those who truly loved him. How was he to explain his unexpected reappearance? What could he say when questioned that would not pain his family or increase his own shame? To tell all that had happened was impossible. If he confessed that he had been sent away then his father would surely wish to know why. Kurt could hardly reveal the nature of his quarrel with Blaine, and to say that Lady Dalton and Blaine had suddenly decided to go to London, before the Season began, would only invite further questions. He might claim to have been eager to return home and blame the post for losing the phantom letter announcing his return, but this would require him to feign joy he did not feel. Even the prospect of Finley's wedding held little appeal for him now. He could not begrudge his brother and Miss Fabray their happiness, but every moment would serve as a reminder that such happiness was never to be his.

Despite these heavy feelings, Kurt's heart lifted as the post-chaise entered Lima. After nearly two months away, it would be good to dine at his own table and sleep in his own bed again. He could expect a warm welcome from his family, and soon he would be reunited with his other friends as well. Only the night before Kurt had thought himself closer to Blaine than anyone else in the world, but Blaine had been quick to cast him aside. Here in Lima were the people he had known all his life. This was his home.

The carriage turned onto the lane leading to Hartfield House. The red sky was fading to purple as Kurt stepped down, his feet finally on familiar ground again. Once his luggage had been handed down, he threw open the front door and called out a greeting.

There was no reply. Kurt looked into the dining room, wondering if his family had sat down to table already. It was empty. Perhaps they had all been invited to dine with a neighbor, though it was their usual custom to have Sunday dinner at home.

He returned to the hall in search of a servant. Hearing footsteps on the stairs above him, he looked up to see his stepmother descending.

"Kurt!" she cried when she caught sight of him. "Thank God you are here!"


	46. A Secret Revealed

**Author's note: **I'm still in a wrist brace, so this took longer to write than I had hoped. Unfortunately I can't promise that the few remaining chapters will be coming along any faster, but I'm pecking away as fast as I can.

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><p>So great was Mrs. Hummel's relief upon greeting her stepson that Kurt feared she must have suffered some equally great terror. "Are you here alone, madam?" he asked. "Where is my father?"<p>

"In bed, the doctor gave him a sleeping draught to help him rest."

Kurt felt a chill run through his veins. "Papa?" he asked, his voice sounding small and helpless to his own ears. "Is he all right?"

"He is much improved today, though it was a dreadful shock to him," said Mrs. Hummel. "To all of us. Finley is still in a terrible state. Please Kurt, you must talk to him. He'll listen to you. I told him that you would be back with us soon, and here you are. I had not hoped to see you until Monday. The good Lord must have given you speed!"

"I don't understand. You must tell me what has happened. Has there been an accident?"

"No, not so far as I know. I am sure it is all a misunderstanding. I had not thought Miss Fabray such a flighty girl, but brides are often nervous."

This explanation served more to confuse than enlighten Kurt. Mrs. Hummel was so agitated that her tale was told in fits and starts, and it took some time for him to finally piece together what had transpired. That the reader may be spared some of our hero's anxiety, the events that had so disrupted the Hummel household will be presented here in a more concise manner than that in which they were conveyed to him.

While in London, Miss Fabray had complained to Lady Susan of headache and fatigue. She had attended the Queen's funeral, but the following day had declined to accompany her godmother on some social calls. Lady Susan returned to her townhouse some hours later to find Miss Fabray gone. A note, much stained with tears, had been left on her bed:

_MY DEAR GODMOTHER,_

_I know that you will be angry when you read this, and it is no more than I deserve. I have abused your trust and generosity. My only excuse is that I have acted so to prevent a much greater wrong. I cannot marry Mr. Hudson-Hummel. Over the past months I have endeavored to hide my shame, but after my last meeting with his brother I realized that I could live this lie no longer._

_I cannot undo my past mistakes, so I must try instead to make things right for the future. Please give my love to my parents and tell them not to worry about me. I have gone to be with one who still cares for me despite everything. I pray that you will all someday be able to forgive me for what I have done._

_Most sincerely,_

_LUCY QUINN FABRAY_

Lady Susan reported the contents of this note – liberally seasoned with her own speculations – to Mrs. Fabray as quickly as the mail allowed. Mrs. Fabray shared the news with her husband, who soon appeared at Hartfield demanding to know what vile indignities the sons of the house had visited upon his daughter. He nearly came to blows with Finley, and in the commotion that ensued Mr. Hummel suffered a collapse. The doctor was sent for, and Mrs. Hummel penned a letter to Kurt begging him to return home immediately.

Upon hearing this, Kurt realized that his stepmother took his presence at Hartfield House to mean that he had received her letter with unusual speed. He thought it best to allow her to continue in this belief. Any other explanation he might offer would only add to her worries. While he could not be grateful for the circumstances surrounding his return, neither could he regret that his stay at Dalton Abbey had been cut short. His family needed him now. As miserable as he had thought himself during his journey, they had suffered fear as well as heartache in recent days.

His ignorance of events in Lima had spared Kurt the worst of these fears. Mr. Hummel's condition was not as serious as it had at first seemed. By the time he arrived home, Mrs. Hummel was able to assure him that the doctor had pronounced Mr. Hummel's heart and lungs to be sound. His opinion had been that with rest and care the gentleman could expect to fully recover his strength. Even so, Kurt insisted upon looking into his father's chamber and seeing that he was sleeping peacefully. Only when he had been thus reassured could he turn his attention to other matters.

Mrs. Hummel slipped into Finley's room to announced Kurt's return, speaking to him briefly in hushed tones before sending Kurt in to him.

"Where is she?" Finley demanded, without preamble or greeting. "What has happened to her? Please, you must tell me. She may be in need of help." The anguish in his voice was unmistakable. His face too bore the signs of suffering. He was haggard and red-eyed, as if he had been drinking.

"I do not know. I wish that I did, but I was as surprised as you when I heard the news." Perhaps even more surprised, for Kurt knew Miss Fabray to be in a condition better suited to a wedded woman. He could not think why she would flee the marriage that would save her, but she must soon realize the seriousness of her mistake. "Surely Miss Fabray has suffered nothing worse than an attack of nerves. She has gone to her sister, I wager."

Finley shook his head. "Mrs. Russell would have written to their mother. There has been no word of her since she ran away. You spoke to her in Bath. She told you why she would not marry me, didn't she? Whatever it is, I must know. I feel as though I am going mad."

Kurt wished he could tell his brother that he understood his feelings. To one day be in love and believe this love returned, only to be abandoned without explanation the next, was a pain he knew all too well. It felt, he thought, like drowning. It felt like a knife through the heart. Yet such thoughts, even had he dared speak them, could bring little comfort to Finley.

Instead Kurt said "The last time I spoke to Miss Fabray, she was looking forward to her wedding day. Her gown had come from the dressmaker and she wished for me to see it. She had concerns for the future, as any soldier's bride might, but I promised her that if anything were to happen to you then she and your children would have my support and protection."

"And your name?" Finley muttered.

"Pardon?"

"You meant to have her for yourself as soon as I was gone!" Finley shouted, swaying on his feet.

"Good God!" Kurt exclaimed. He was certain now that his brother must be deep in his cups. "How can you think such a thing? Have I ever given you cause to suspect me of such villainy? I have no designs on Miss Fabray. I meant only to comfort her and show her the respect due to my future sister."

"Was she in love with you, then? Did she wish to be married to you instead of me?"

"If so then she gave me no sign of it. Indeed, she urged me to find a wife of my own."

"Yet she changed her mind about me after she spoke to you." Finley sat down heavily in a chair. "Something else must have happened, something you are not telling me."

Though Kurt was reluctant to add to Finley's worries, it no longer seemed right to keep Miss Fabray's secret from him. "There is something, though it hardly explains her behavior," he said. "Miss Fabray's illness…was not an illness. She is with child."

Finley stared up at him in astonishment. "No," he said, his voice hoarse with emotion. "No, it cannot be."

"She told me herself."

"When did you become her closest confidant?"

"I assure you, she was not eager to discuss the subject," Kurt said, remembering the blow Miss Fabray had struck him. "I guessed the truth. After I told her of my suspicions, she confessed it all."

"How could you keep this from me? We were to be married!"

"Are you really so surprised? You are more than old enough to know what comes of lying with a woman, even if you are not yet wed."

Finley shook his head again. "I have never lain with Miss Fabray," he said flatly. "I never expected to, not before our wedding night. She was so virtuous. At least, I thought her so." He buried his face in his hands. "I am the greatest fool in the world."

"No greater a fool than I am." For the second time that day, Kurt realized that he had completely misjudged the intentions of another. He had pitied Miss Fabray, thinking her devoted to his stepbrother and guilty of nothing worse than allowing her affection for him to overrule her judgment. He had seen her tears, heard her speak of her shame, and had never suspected the true cause. Kurt placed a hand on Finley's shoulder, half fearing that it would be brushed away. "I cannot blame you for being angry at me," he said. "But I swear, I had no notion that Miss Fabray had been false to you. I thought only that you had...made an early start of things."

It seemed a long time before Finley replied. "I'm not angry at you, Kurt," he said at last. "I just wish that it had not happened. That none of this had ever happened. I never should have asked for her hand. She's so beautiful, and everyone said it was such a fine match, but I always wondered if her heart was truly mine." He wiped at his eyes with the back of his hand. "Now I know that it was not."

"I am certain that she admired you very much," said Kurt. "Miss Fabray often spoke to me of your goodness and her regard for you. Clearly she did not wish to continue her deception. Though I cannot say she did right to break your engagement in such a fashion, it is better that you should know the truth."

"She could have told me," Finley said. "I still would have married her, if I had known. I would have taken care of her."

"I think she knew that, but was too proud to ask for your pity. She told me that she wished to be certain that you were marrying her out of love rather than honor."

"So she has left me for a man who loves her more but honors her less."

"I am sorry," Kurt said gently. Again he wished that he could tell Finley that he understood his heartache. "If there is anything I can do..."

"There is nothing."

"Shall I tell your mother that you will be joining us for dinner this evening?"

"I have little appetite." Finley sighed. "Please, I wish to be alone."

"Very well."

Kurt closed the door behind him, leaving Finley to his thoughts. He proceeded to his own chamber, where he washed away the dust of the road and began to dress for dinner. His stepmother would be wanting his company.


	47. Paying Calls

**Author's Note:** This chapter wound up being much longer than I expected; in fact, it's one of the longest in the story. I wanted to address in the text some questions readers had about Kurt's thoughts as well as deal with several dangling plot threads involving supporting characters. One of these wound up going in a slightly different direction than I'd planned, which is always interesting for me as a even if it does wind up taking longer to write!

As a historic note, I want to say that the beliefs expressed by one of the characters in this chapter are unusually progressive for this period. My justification for this is the unusual life experience of this particular person, but don't take their statements as typical for the time.

Austen fans may recognize the bit about baked apples near the beginning of this chapter as being a reference to _Emma_. Emma's father is an extremely picky eater but is fond of baked apples, and (according to Miss Bates) "it is the only way that Mr. Woodhouse thinks the fruit thoroughly wholesome." In this story I've thought of Burt as sort of the bizarro version of Mr. Woodhouse – instead of being a hypochondriac, his health really is poor but he wants to act (and eat!) like it isn't. A line about "Emily at Udolpho" later in the chapter refers to the novel _The Mysteries of Udolpho_, in which the heroine is imprisoned in her villainous uncle's castle.

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><p>The following morning Kurt was pleased to find his father awake and, though still weak, feeling enough himself to complain that he had been allowed only porridge for his breakfast.<p>

"Papa, you are not well," Kurt said. "A heavy meal would upset your stomach."

"How am I to grow well eating gruel?" his father grumbled.

"Porridge is wholesome."

"A man needs meat to make him strong. Am I not to have even a bit of bacon?"

Despite his father's best efforts, Kurt refused to be persuaded as to the curative powers of bacon, sausage, and meat pies. For his part, Mr. Hummel would not be satisfied with the offer of toast. Agreement was finally reached on the subject of baked apples, with Kurt promising to have the cook prepare some for him.

"A bit of cream to go with them would do me no harm," Mr. Hummel added hopefully.

"If it is a very small bit," said Kurt, smiling. He had not expected to smile again so soon, but the improvement in his father's condition gave him reason enough. Amidst all the unhappiness of the past few days, this was one bright spot.

"Good lad." Mr. Hummel leaned back on his pillows. "I am sorry that you had to cut short your visit for the sake of a cantankerous old man. Mr. Anderson must have been sad to lose your company."

Kurt had already been thinking of how he might reply to such a remark, and was able to respond after only a slight pause. "Mr. Anderson was summoned to town by his father the same day I left Dalton," he said, which was perfectly true if not the entire truth. "So I would have returned home soon enough in any event. Do not trouble yourself about Mr. Anderson, or me. He has other amusements, and I am in the only place where I would wish to be."

He did not say this merely to reassure his father. The elegance of Dalton Abbey no longer held any allure for him. Hartfield House was his home. With Mr. Hummel too weak to oversee the management of the estate, Kurt felt more keenly than ever that he was bound to Hartfield by ties of both obligation and affection. His family needed him as much as he needed them.

Familiar surroundings and useful work could not cure his heartache, but they could provide comfort and distraction. Kurt had to meet with both butler and bailiff, tend to the accounts, and consult with the doctor. He also endeavored to serve as a cheerful companion for his stepmother and brother. A burst of rainy weather kept them all indoors for two days and deterred any social callers. Hartfield House could not be merry with its master ill and Finley heartbroken, but reading and games of cassino and speculation helped to pass the evenings. Kurt even agreed to play backgammon, a favorite of Finley's that he himself had never cared for. It seemed a small penance for the unintended role he had played in his stepbrother's current unhappiness.

He kept a watchful eye on Finley during this time, fearing that his unhappiness might lead to greater despair. However, having learned the reason for Miss Fabray's elopement, Finley seemed to accept it as well as might be expected. He asked Kurt only once if he knew the name of Miss Fabray's lover. When Kurt said he did not – and he didn't, his suspicions on that point being only suspicions – Finley did not press him for another answer. He remained quieter than usual, but his appetite slowly improved and he did not drink to excess again. Neither did he run mad with grief or go wandering in the rain until he caught pneumonia. Kurt refused to hold himself to a lesser standard of behavior. He was a gentleman, and he would bear his own, secret heartbreak with dignity.

Despite his best efforts, there were times when Kurt wondered if he had made the right choice in rejecting Blaine's proposition. When he lay in bed late at night unable to sleep, when he woke in the morning from dreams that left him frustrated and ashamed, when it seemed that every inch of his body ached at the memory of Blaine's touch, he felt as if he might sacrifice anything – his duty, his pride, his honor – to be with him again. But even in these weak moments, Kurt could not forget all that the proposition had entailed. To accept it would have required him to debase himself and betray another. While the former would be humiliating, the latter would be unconscionable. He would be no better than the man who had seduced Miss Fabray away from Finley.

Indeed he would be worse, for Finley had at least learned the truth before he and Miss Fabray were married. The future Mrs. Blaine Anderson would not have known, and must never have learned, of her husband's arrangement with Kurt. Blaine had spoken of marriage to Miss Pierce – Kurt had thought in jest, though he saw little humor in it now – and she seemed a woman with too amiable a temperament and too little shrewdness of judgment to suspect her husband of such a deception. Yet surely even the most soft-headed of brides must eventually sense that her marriage was not what it ought to be. Blaine's wife would not be some poor, friendless soul grateful to have been rescued from spinsterhood. She must have family, fortune, and accomplishments enough to make her acceptable to Lord Dalton. Such a woman would have other prospects for marriage. As the years passed and she realized that she had failed to win her husband's love, she would remember her other suitors. She would wonder if a different choice might have brought her greater happiness, but by then it would be too late for her.

Worse still, Kurt knew that if he had accepted Blaine's offer then his pity for Blaine's wife would soon have faded. The envy he had once felt towards Miss Berry would have paled in comparison to his jealousy towards Mrs. Anderson. She would share Blaine's home, his name, and his marriage bed. Were she the most deserving creature in the world, Kurt would begrudge her these privileges. He would have resented her every claim to Blaine's attention and affection. In time he must have grown to hate her. To allow his feelings for Blaine to lead him into adultery and base deception, to harden him to the suffering of the innocent, would have been wickedness indeed. It was better, surely it was better, to endure heartbreak now than to be slowly poisoned by a love turned bad.

Painful though it was to reflect upon his own weakness and tendency to envy, Kurt hoped to learn from his mistakes. The thought of Miss Berry had reminded him of how poorly he had treated her in Bath. At the time he had believed it right to do everything in his power to discourage her from pursuing Finley, but he no longer had the same confidence in his judgment or even his motives. He should have realized at the time that the best course of action was to speak to Finley about his concerns. Kurt had since told his brother all he knew about the situation, and Finley seemed to have forgiven him for meddling in his affairs. However, Kurt had done nothing to make amends to Miss Berry. While she may have been wrong to flirt with a man already promised to another, it had been far worse for Kurt to seek to humiliate her. He resolved to pay her a call soon.

This resolution, though quickly made, was not so quickly fulfilled. Kurt's first social calls after the weather cleared were to other neighbors, where he felt confident of his reception. From his oldest friends he received a warm welcome back to Lima and many wishes for his father's speedy recovery. Kurt had been dreading questions about Miss Fabray's elopement, but soon discovered that this was not yet widely known.

"Does Miss Fabray still mean to marry before Christmas?" Miss Cohen-Chang asked after they had exchanged the usual pleasantries. "I had thought the banns would be read on Sunday. Mother said that the Fabrays might wish her to marry by license, although it seems a waste of money." Kurt's discomfort must have shown on his face, for Miss Cohen-Chang suddenly looked embarrassed. "Oh dear, I hope I have not said something wrong. Was that why Mr. Fabray quarreled with your brother?"

"So you heard about that," Kurt said. Word traveled fast in a small village, though the Fabrays had apparently been successful at keeping the cause of the quarrel a secret.

"I should not have mentioned it," said Miss Cohen-Chang, blushing. "I do apologize, Mr. Hummel. I can think of nothing but weddings these days."

Kurt seized upon the topic of Miss Cohen-Chang's upcoming wedding with relief. Whatever curiosity she might have felt about the rumored confrontation between Mr. Fabray and Finley was exceeded by her excitement about her marriage to Mr. Chang. She showed Kurt the bolt of silk that was to be made into her gown with a modest pride that he found touching.

"It is a gift from my grandparents. I wasn't certain that I wished to be married in red until I unwrapped the fabric. I thought it so beautiful that I cannot picture myself now in any other color. It is very fine, do you not think?"

"Very fine," Kurt agreed. "It will look well on you. What style of gown will you have?"

"You will have to advise me on that, Mr. Hummel. The color is traditional, but if I am to get much use of it the design must be _au courant_."

Kurt promised to call again soon to discuss this important matter. Miss Jones, he thought, would not be so easily distracted from the latest gossip. She had met Miss Fabray often in Bath and had heard her speak of how she wished to marry as soon as possible. As long as Lady Susan remained in London it might be assumed that Miss Fabray was still with her, but it had already been more than a week since the Queen's funeral. That Miss Fabray should linger in town instead of returning home to be married must strike Miss Jones as odd.

Again Kurt's worries proved to be unfounded. The gossips of Lima had already come up with an explanation for Miss Fabray's continuing absence.

"I think it terribly cruel of Mr. Fabray to force Miss Fabray to remain in town," said Miss Jones. "If he objects to her marriage then he ought to have said so when your brother first asked for her hand. I dare say Miss Fabray could find a wealthier husband, but once Mr. Hudson-Hummel is promoted they should be comfortable enough. That should be all that matters."

"You seem to know more about the situation than I do," Kurt said drily.

"You need not play coy with me, Mr. Hummel. I heard directly from Mrs. Rutherford that her maid had been told by Mrs. Fabray's maid that she had heard Mr. Fabray say he would not allow her to come home. I keep thinking of her as Emily at Udolpho, the poor creature. If my father tried to keep me from marrying, I do not know what I would do. I would not wish to marry without his blessing, but if he disapproved of the man I loved...though I hope I would not fall in love with a man my father considered unworthy. Do you think that he will approve of Mr. Evans?"

"Are they to meet?" Kurt asked, remembering the handsome soldier he had met at the Pump Room. He better recalled how brave Blaine had been that day when confronted by Captain Karofsky, but there was no point in thinking of such things now. "My dear Miss Jones, do you mean to say there is an understanding between you and Mr. Evans already?"

"No, of course not, we hardly know each other," she answered quickly. "Mr. Evans has friends in Southampton, and that is such a little distance from here that he said when he next visits them he might come to Lima. I hope that my father will have a good opinion of him."

"I found him a charming gentleman," said Kurt. "I am sure that your family will think as well of him as I do."

During his walk home, Kurt reflected on the changes that were coming to his circle in Lima. Miss Cohen-Chang would marry in the spring. Miss Jones, he predicted, would become Mrs. Evans not long afterward. She would leave Lima to make a new home with him, and though she would return to visit her family she and Kurt must meet far less often than had been their custom in the past. Mr. Chang came from a local family so Miss Cohen-Chang's marriage would not take her far, but her responsibilities as a wife and, in time, a mother, would leave her with less time to sit and discuss novels with Kurt. Things could never be as they were before. While Kurt wished his friends every happiness, he would be lonely without their company.

The next day he made his way to the large, comfortable house that Miss Berry shared with her uncle and Mr. LeRoy. The gentlemen were, as he had expected, at work in their office, and Miss Berry received him in the drawing room alone.

"To what do I owe this visit, Mr. Hummel?" she asked. He noticed she did not say "the pleasure of this visit", though he could hardly fault her for that. The last time he had paid her a call he had left her in tears.

"I wished to speak with you in private."

"About Miss Fabray, I suppose."

"In a way," he said. "You have heard, I take it, that there has been some unpleasantness between my family and the Fabrays. I do not understand all of what has happened while I was away, but I do know now that what I told you about Miss Fabray in Bath was not true." This revelation produced a small gasp from Miss Berry, but she made no further interruption. "Please believe me when I say that I did not intend to deceive you," Kurt continued. "I spoke what I believed to be the truth. I had made faulty assumptions about things I had seen and heard, and failed to discuss the matter with my brother before I shared my thoughts with you. If I had spoken to him first, I would have learned then that he had not...behaved in an ungentlemanly manner towards Miss Fabray. With so many rumors flying about, I wished to assure you of that."

"Miss Jones was right, then," Miss Berry said. "Mr. Fabray has forced them to break the engagement."

This was not the response Kurt had expected. "I cannot speak to Mr. Fabray's wishes, and would advise you to put little stock in the gossip you have heard. However, I think it unlikely that Miss Fabray and my brother will marry."

"So I am to console him," she said. "To be his second choice, when he has lost his first. Is that what you want of me?"

"No, Miss Berry, you mistake my meaning," Kurt protested. "I am done with playing matchmaker and puppetmaster. That is why I have come." He took a deep breath and plunged forward with the speech he had planned. "I have behaved disgracefully. Even had I been correct in my assumptions about my brother and Miss Fabray, I should not have shared these thoughts with you. Nor should I have encouraged you to behave foolishly towards Finley when we were in Bath. Though I will understand if you find it difficult to consider me a friend after I have treated you so ill, I hope that you will accept my most sincere apology."

Miss Berry gave him a long, appraising look. "I always wanted to consider you a friend, Mr. Hummel," she said at last. "Did you not know that?"

"I cannot think why, when I have so often been rude to you."

"My own manners are far from perfect," she said. "I am impatient and can be short with others when they fail to show appreciation for the things that are important to me. We are alike in that, I think. We share a love for music as well. I know that I am not as clever as Miss Cohen-Chang or as spirited as Miss Jones—"

Kurt, fearing that her next words would only embarrass them both, rushed to say "Miss Berry, I hope that I have not inadvertently misled you as to my intentions."

"I hope I have not misled you as to mine," she answered with a slight smile on her lips. "I was about to say that I would be pleased if you thought me as worthy of your friendship as those ladies. I've often envied them. They always look so well in the bonnets you've trimmed for them."

"I confess that I have often envied you as well," he said. "Your accomplishments, I mean, and the attention you've received for them. You are very talented."

"So are you, Mr. Hummel. That is one reason I wished to be your friend." Miss Berry looked at him again steadily, almost boldly, before continuing. "Another is that you remind me of the man I admire above all others."

"You speak of my brother."

She shook her head. "The news you brought me today has done much to restore my good opinion of Mr. Hudson-Hummel, but I was referring to my Uncle Berry."

"Do you think us much alike?" While Kurt knew Mr. Berry to be a fellow music lover, he could think of little else he might have in common with a Jewish solicitor well past his fiftieth year.

"You are both confirmed bachelors."

"All bachelors might seem alike to a lady," said Kurt, remembering the odd conclusion to his last meeting with Miss Berry. Her remarks about her uncle and Mr. LeRoy had seemed strange to him then. He had managed to dismiss them as merely an encouragement to take comfort in friendship, though if that were Miss Berry's intent now then why should she not say so plainly? They were already speaking of friendship. "Yet I am certain that we differ from one another in our habits and characters at least as much as one married man differs from the next."

"To be sure," said Miss Berry. "Still, there is something about your manner that always put me in mind of my dear uncle."

Her tone suggested a deeper meaning to her words. "I am not certain I understand you," he said carefully.

"I dare say we understand one another well enough," she replied. "We both know what it is to be unlike our neighbors. Many would say that I am wrong to follow my faith rather than converting, but my uncle always told me that it is no sin to be different from others. We must all be true to our own beliefs, and our own hearts."

There was but one other person who had ever spoken to Kurt in this way. Vividly he recalled the golden afternoon light on Beechen Cliff, the taste of white peaches, and the feeling of Blaine's whiskers brushing against his cheek as Blaine leaned over him in the Dalton library, flipping through the Bible to show him David's lament for Jonathan. _Thy love to me was wonderful, passing the love of women._

"To thine own self be true," Kurt murmured, as some response seemed necessary. He felt himself safe in offering a quotation. Anything else might reveal too much of his thoughts. Similar as her words were to Blaine's, it seemed impossible that Miss Berry should intend them to be taken in the same way. She was thinking of her religion and her feelings for Finley. Yet she had made such a point of mentioning her uncle. The confirmed bachelor, who shared his home with another man.

"There is much wisdom in Shakespeare," said Miss Berry. "You reminded me once that he wrote in praise of a dark lady, although in fact far more of his sonnets were dedicated to a fair youth."

Even quotations failed Kurt now. He was reduced to a single "Indeed."

"I do not ask to be taken into your confidence, Mr. Hummel. Only know that you need not be afraid here." When he made no reply, Miss Berry said "Please give my best wishes to your family. I have been praying for your father's health."

"I will tell him so. Please give my regards to your uncle." Kurt rose to take his leave. "And to Mr. LeRoy as well." He dared say no more than that, lest he lose countenance before Miss Berry. That thought alone – that he must hold back his questions and the telling of his own tale not from fear, but because a gentleman did not prolong his calls or disturb his hostess with sudden fits of emotion – was nearly enough to undo him.

Miss Berry may have sensed some of what he was feeling, for she pressed his hand and smiled kindly. "I hope that you will call again soon."


	48. Chapter 48

**Author's Note:** Here I am at last with an update. I will try not to be so long with the next one! Aside from my physical limitations (which are improving – I'm out of the brace now and in physical therapy) and dealing with life in general, I found it surprisingly difficult to work on this story around the time that _Glee_ was ending as a series. I suppose I didn't want everything to be over all at once. However, I was happy to see in the finale that there's now a canonical connection between _Glee_ and Jane Austen!

In other news, I now have a Tumblr account at gleeandglory dot tumblr dot com, although I don't expect to be too active there for a while. My priority is getting this story finished! I've always hoped that once it was done I'd be able to revise it and maybe get it published somehow, so my Tumblr will be the place for updates on that. I'll also be posting about the sources I used for my research and my writing process.

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><p>On the night of the full moon, Kurt realized it had been three months since Finley's engagement ball. He had wished that night for love. On the next full moon he was in Bath, and had recently made the acquaintance of the charming Mr. Anderson. By the time the moon had completed another cycle he had known himself to be in love with Blaine. Now another month had passed and Blaine was gone. So too was Miss Fabray. Blaine had said once that the moon was kind to lovers, but fair Diana had toyed most cruelly with Kurt and his brother.<p>

Kurt wondered when he would stop thinking, without meaning to, of things that Blaine had told him. He wondered when his memory of Blaine's face would begin to fade. He wondered when he would stop being in love with him. At times he was forced to remind himself that Blaine had cast him aside, to feel again the knife-sharp pain of betrayal, lest he give into despair. Still, it was not easy to push Blaine from his mind. They had been constant companions for the better part of two months, and the sudden loss of this friendship would have been cause enough for grief.

Miss Berry proved to be a great comfort. Kurt did not tell her _everything_, but by the time he had paid Miss Berry two more calls he had told her as much as seemed right to discuss with a lady. Sympathetic though she might be, he feared that if he spoke of kisses and midnight trysts then her maidenly blushes might exceed even his own. In telling his tale Kurt focused on the cold facts rather than the tender particulars. He had fallen in love with Blaine and had thought himself loved in return, until Blaine had declared his intention to take a wife.

"Who is he to marry?" Miss Berry asked.

"I do not know," said Kurt. He looked down at the bonnet they were trimming and carefully repositioned one of the feathers. "The first suitable woman to accept him, I assume. She will be Lady Dalton someday. There are many who would consider a loveless marriage a small enough price to pay for that honor."

"I would never marry for the sake of a title alone," Miss Berry declared. "Not even the crown would be worth such a sacrifice."

"I am glad to hear you say so, for the future Lord Dalton might have proposed to you had I not objected."

"To me? Are you sure?"

"He certainly considered it. He was quite taken with your singing."

Miss Berry accepted this praise as no more than her due. "I suppose it is no worse to marry for music than it is to marry for money," she said. "Still, I would wish for my husband to care for more than my singing."

"I told Mr. Anderson much the same. That was the cause of our argument in Bath, the one that Lady Susan overheard. I am sorry for that; I never meant for her to become involved." Kurt sighed. "Perhaps I should not have become involved myself. If he had proposed to you, I would have known then what sort of man he was. You would have refused him, and that might have discouraged him from pursuing other women."

"I might not have refused him," said Miss Berry thoughtfully. "It is not as though I have received other proposals. Mr. Anderson seemed a charming gentleman, and if I had believed that he was truly in love with me then I might have hoped that in time I would come to love him too."

Upon hearing this, it occurred to Kurt that, had he known sooner how well Miss Berry understood men of their nature, he might have encouraged Blaine to make her an honest proposal instead of objecting to the very idea. "What if Mr. Anderson had told you the truth?" he asked.

"That he did not love me?"

"That he could not love any woman in that way. What would you have said if Mr. Anderson had told you that it was to be a marriage of convenience, and that he meant to continue...to continue an affair of love with me?"

When she did not immediately answer, Kurt feared he had shocked her into silence. "Please forgive me, Miss Berry. I should have thought before asking such an impertinent question. I did not mean to offend you."

"No, it is all right," she said. "I was only thinking that such an arrangement would not be entirely unfamiliar to me. I am accustomed to living with my uncle and Mr. LeRoy. The difference is that they expect me only to keep their secret safe from the world. I am not required to play a role. It would be difficult, I think, to keep up such a pretense year after year. I have never been able to hide my emotions. If I were desperately poor, or a widow with children to provide for, then I might see a marriage of convenience as a blessing, but as I have a comfortable income then on the whole I think it better to remain unmarried than to marry without love." She looked at Kurt and added "Do you think me very selfish?"

"I do not think you are selfish at all," Kurt replied. "I quite agree with you. I would not wish to live in a web of lies either." How much simpler it would be, he thought, if noblemen were free to choose their own heirs, or if a woman could provide a bachelor with a child while still having a husband and family of her own. Of course it was not unheard of for a man to father a child on another man's wife, but that path led to scandal and divorce. Kurt could hardly expect Miss Berry, or any woman, to volunteer for that shameful fate. "It hardly matters, anyway," he said. "Mr. Anderson would have tired of me soon enough. He did not love me. I was a fool not to have seen it."

"I have been wrong about such things myself," Miss Berry said softly.

Kurt found himself envying Miss Berry again, for she had been wise or lucky enough to fall in love with an honorable man. "If you are referring to my brother, then you were mistaken only as to the depth of his feelings. He has told me himself that he is fond of you."

"Fond!" she sniffed. "A man might be fond of a dog. It is not the same as love."

"True enough," said Kurt. "Though I must confess that I would not have tried so hard to discourage you from pursuing Finley had I not believed you had some chance of success."

"I am ashamed to think of how I behaved," she said. "I let my feelings overrule my sense. If Mr. Hudson-Hummel loved me, he would never have become engaged to Miss Fabray. I can see that now."

"Sometimes it is easier to see the past than the present," said Kurt. "Finley has suffered a broken heart. I do not know when it will mend or whether he might someday be inclined to look upon you with more than fondness. But if that day should come, you may trust that I will not seek to interfere. Finley must choose his own wife, if he is to have one at all, and I dare say that you would be a better choice than Miss Fabray."

Miss Berry smiled sadly at this. "There must be a hundred, if not a hundred thousand, ladies who would be a better choice than me."

"There cannot be one in a hundred of them as accomplished as you are," Kurt replied. "And few who will look as well as you will in this bonnet. I am nearly finished with it."

After he had completed the final stitches, Miss Berry went to the glass and tied the bonnet onto her head. "Mr. Hummel, you are a true artist," she said, admiring her reflection. "It looks as fine as anything I saw in the shops in Bath."

Kurt rose from his seat and joined her before the glass. "Try wearing the ribbon like this," he said, loosening the knot and repositioning the bow. "You need not tie it so tightly unless the wind is high. Easy elegance is more becoming."

"Elegance has never come easily to me, I fear."

"Nothing comes easily without practice. You can learn which colors and styles of dress will suit you best, just as you learned to choose songs to suit your voice."

Miss Berry's eyes met his in the mirror. "We can learn to be happy without them."

Kurt did not need to ask who she meant. "Shall we work on your straw hat next?" he said instead. "It wants a new ribbon, and with a few silk blossoms it will be perfect for spring."

* * *

><p>Though Blaine continued to be a presence in Kurt's thoughts, he did not speak of him again for several days. He had gone to sit by his father's bedside and discuss plans for the spring planting when, much to Kurt's surprise, Mr. Hummel asked "Have you heard any news from your friend Mr. Anderson?"<p>

"Not as of late," Kurt replied, in as calm a voice as he could manage.

He had, in moments of weakness, permitted himself to wonder whether he had been wrong to doubt Blaine. Lady Dalton might have cast him out of the abbey on her own authority. Yet much though he might wish to believe this, Kurt could not. He had been at home for a fortnight already. If Blaine had not abandoned him, there would have been some word or sign from him. Even the most mundane note, containing nothing but an inquiry as to the comfort of Kurt's journey to Lima, would have been sufficient to convey that their parting was undesired and perhaps need not be permanent.

Mr. Hummel raised his eyebrows. "He has not written to you?"

"No, why do you ask?"

"Your stepmother tells me that he's gone searching for Miss Fabray," said Mr. Hummel. "At least, that is what Mrs. Fabray told her. She's had a letter from Lady Susan in town. I wondered if you might know something of it."

"I had no notion of it at all," said Kurt. "How peculiar." Lord Dalton, being a friend of Lady Susan's, must have offered his assistance in locating Miss Fabray, though it seemed unnecessary to send Blaine after her. He hardly knew Miss Fabray and certainly would not know the identity of her seducer.

"I thought so as well. It seems strange that he would not have told you of his plans."

"Mr. Anderson cares little what I think of his plans." No sooner had these words left his mouth than Kurt realized how bitter he must sound. "We quarreled the night before I left Dalton," he added quickly. "I have not heard from him since, nor do I expect to."

"What was the quarrel about?"

"Nothing of importance."

"The two of you seemed such good friends. It must have been something."

To explain the true cause of their quarrel was impossible. To refuse to answer would only give his father more cause for suspicion. Kurt decided that this was a time when the wisest course was to tell the truth, but as little of it as possible.

"Mr. Anderson suggested something that I thought...ungentlemanly," he said. "I refused in no uncertain terms, and I'm afraid we both lost our tempers. I was upset at the time, but it hardly matters now. You need not trouble yourself about it." He forced a smile, hoping that this would put an end to the subject.

Mr. Hummel studied Kurt's face for a long moment. "Son, do you know why I did not send you away to school?"

Though this was not the question Kurt had been expecting, he was able to answer readily enough. "You needed me at home."

"I might have managed without you for a time. Other fathers do. No, it was because I remembered what happened to boys like you at school."

"Boys like me?"

"Small, and..." Mr. Hummel gestured vaguely.

"Girlish?"

"Delicate," said Mr. Hummel. "I feared you would be bullied or misused. I hope that by shielding you as a boy I did not leave you vulnerable as a man to...to the wrong sort of attention."

"I'm sure I don't know what you mean." Kurt's face burned with the shame of this lie, and the shame of the truth.

"I saw the way that Mr. Anderson looked at you."

This was, at last, what Kurt had long feared. He had been prepared to deny suspicions, but his father more than suspected – he knew. He had known a month at least and had said nothing. The shock of this left Kurt unable to form a lie or even to feign ignorance. He could only ask the question that was now burning in his mind: "Then why did you allow me to go with him to Dalton?"

Mr. Hummel reached out and covered his son's hand with his own. "Because I saw the way that you looked at him."

To this Kurt could make no reply at all, for his throat was choked with tears.

"I want you to be happy," his father continued. "But a man cannot always be free to do as he likes. Not even when it comes to matters of the heart."

"That is what Mr. Anderson said."

"Is that why you quarreled?"

Kurt shook his head. "It was because he means to marry," he said, and was struck by a realization as sudden as it was certain. "Dear God," he gasped. "He means to marry Miss Fabray."


	49. Chapter 49

**Author's note:** This is the chapter you have all been waiting for. It's not the end, though we are very close to the end now, but much will be revealed. I'll admit that I feel rather nervous about posting this because I want this to be satisfying and I'm not sure everyone will like it, although at least you (and Kurt!) will finally have some answers.

This chapter owes a great debt to _Emma_, as well as John Mullan's _What Matters in Jane Austen?_, which contains some interesting observations about Austen's plots. While reading _What Matters in Jane Austen?_ there was a moment when I suddenly thought "That's what I'm going to do in _Glee and Glory_!" (I'll be saying more about this on my Tumblr – I'm under the name gleeandglory.) Coincidentally, the chapter in _Emma_ that most influenced this one is also Chapter 49.

This chapter also references the English folk ballad "The Unquiet Grave" for little reason aside from my own fancy.

* * *

><p>Kurt was reluctant to keep another secret from his stepbrother, but after discussing the matter with his father he agreed not to share his suspicions. "If there is to be a wedding, we should hear word of it soon enough," Mr. Hummel said.<p>

"Is it not better to tell him now, so that the news will come as less of a shock?"

"Such news will cause your brother pain whether he hears it today or next week. To tell him before you are sure of the facts may be to cause him that pain needlessly. It is good to be honest, but great harm can come of speaking too freely. Sometimes it is best to keep your own counsel."

Kurt knew that his father was referring to more than just Miss Fabray's marriage. Mr. Hummel asked no more about his relationship with Blaine or the quarrel that had ended it, and Kurt volunteered no more on this subject. That his father should know as much as he did without suffering apoplexy or casting Kurt from his home seemed nothing short of a miracle. Kurt would not burden him with the chronicle of his own foolishness, indiscretion, and heartbreak.

At present he did not wish to speak even to Miss Berry about his latest realization. There could be no one who would better understand what it was like to lose the only man he had ever loved to Miss Fabray, but Kurt was in no mood to be comforted. He wanted to be alone and miserable.

The weather matched itself to his mood, turning colder as a fog rolled in. Kurt spent the longest night of the year sleeping little, and thinking much of Blaine.

He had no doubts as to Blaine's intentions in seeking Miss Fabray, but was less certain of his motives. If Blaine were trying to wound Kurt and his family then marriage to Finley's former fiancée would certainly serve that end. Kurt had been witness to the dark moods that sometimes gripped Blaine, yet even after all that had happened it seemed difficult to believe him capable of calculated cruelty. Perhaps he had been moved by pity. While Kurt had never told him that Miss Fabray was with child, Lord Dalton was in communication with Lady Susan. She had spent some six weeks in close company with Miss Fabray. If she suspected the reason behind her goddaughter's "illness", she would be eager to see her married as quickly as possible.

A union between Lady Susan's goddaughter and Lord Dalton's heir would be advantageous to all involved. Miss Fabray's broken engagement to a soldier would be easily explained by her subsequent marriage to a future baron. She might be seen as a fortune-hunter, but her reputation need suffer no lasting damage. For his part, Blaine would gain a wife from a respectable and well-connected family. Though some might say he could have made a better match, Miss Fabray's extraordinary beauty would seem ample justification for his choice.

The appearance of a baby less than nine months after the wedding would surely be noted, but the gossip would be less scandalous than the truth. There had been ample opportunity for dalliances in Bath. Lord Dalton's house in the Royal Crescent was only a short walk from Lady Susan's lodgings. Who was to say it had not happened so? Miss Fabray's gratitude, combined with her own shame, would guarantee her discretion on this and other matters. If her husband was often absent from home, preferring the company of some special friend to that of his bride, she would know better than to protest.

One thing was certain, that "friend" would not be Kurt. Had he no other qualms about carrying on an affair with a married man, the thought of doing so with the husband of his brother's former fiancée must give him pause. Such an arrangement would raise the eyebrows of the greatest libertine! Even restoring his friendship with Blaine seemed impossible. Worst of all, Kurt knew that he was in part to blame for this situation. He may not have encouraged the match, but he had been the one to introduce Blaine and Miss Fabray. He had kept her secret from Finley, and had discouraged both Finley and Blaine from courting Miss Berry. Though he had meant to promote his stepbrother's happiness – and, it must be admitted, his own – his meddling had achieved the opposite effect.

The following day was just as grey, but by midday there was no longer frost on the ground. Kurt bundled himself in his warmest coat and scarf to take a walk in the garden. The familiar paths could hold little danger even in the fog, and he hoped the chill air would help to clear his mind.

He had taken two turns about the garden when he saw a figure approaching through the mist. Kurt paused, wondering who it might be. His father was in no condition to be walking out in the cold, and though it was difficult to judge size or distance in the fog he thought the figure too small to be Finley. Still, the man's bearing seemed familiar. It must be one of the servants, or perhaps a neighbor.

Kurt was on the verge of calling out a greeting when the mists parted and he saw the other man's face. This was madness, he thought, or some strange dream. It was impossible that Blaine Anderson should be standing before him, looking pale as death in a black coat and black hat.

"Mr. Hummel," said this ghostly vision, and Kurt knew him then to be real. In his dreams Blaine did not address him so.

"Mr. Anderson," Kurt replied with equal formality, though with an additional tremble. "I am surprised to see you."

"Your stepmother told me that I might find you here. I bring news, though I fear it will not please you."

"Then perhaps you should not share it," said Kurt, though he knew this was childish. A thing could not be undone by refusing to speak of it.

"It cannot remain a secret for long. I would prefer that you heard it from me," said Blaine. "Shall we walk together?"

"If you wish." Kurt brushed past him and continued down the path. He did not want Blaine to see his face, for he doubted his ability to control his countenance.

"I have found Miss Fabray, or the former Miss Fabray," said Blaine behind him. "She no longer bears that name."

Kurt slowed his pace. "So the wedding has already occurred."

"Yes."

"It was quickly done."

"That was the reason for going to Scotland," Blaine said, panting slightly as he caught up. "I met Mr. and Mrs. Puckerman in Hatfield, on their way back to town."

Kurt wondered why Noah Puckerman's parents should be in Hatfield, or how Blaine would have known them, but realized that of course they would have recognized Miss Fabray. Or rather, the new Mrs. Anderson. Her elopement would be a most intriguing piece of gossip. It would take little time, after the Puckermans' return, before all in Lima had heard tell of her marriage to the son of Lord Dalton.

"I know he is Mr. Hudson-Hummel's friend," Blaine continued. "I am sorry."

Kurt stopped in his tracks. "What on Earth do you mean?" he asked sharply.

"It was wrong of him to pursue another man's intended, but the thing is done. Better that they should marry than that she be left without a protector."

That Miss Fabray should marry Mr. Puckerman, a gentleman who she had seemed to particularly dislike, was certainly surprising, but this was not what interested Kurt most about Blaine's words. "Did you not intend to marry her yourself?"

"I intended to bring her home, to her family," said Blaine. "Or, if this proved impossible, then to learn where she was and if she was safe. I hoped I would be able to tell Mr. Hudson-Hummel that she still wished to marry him. I am sorry this is not the case, though at least he will be spared further worry. Mrs. Puckerman was fatigued from their journey but otherwise well enough, and seemed content with her situation. Mr. Puckerman is, I believe, entirely devoted to her."

"It was kind of you to go to so much trouble for my brother's sake."

"I did not do it for him."

Of course he had not. It was foolish to think that Blaine would wish to aid Kurt's family. "For Lady Susan, then," he said. "I suppose she asked your father for assistance."

"She did indeed," said Blaine. "It is absurd, Mr. Hummel, but my father assumed that you were Miss Fabray's seducer. You had spoken to him of your admiration for her beauty, and I am afraid you played the role of Lothario too convincingly. He feared you intended a _rendezvous_ at Dalton Abbey. He wrote to my aunt and told her to send you away." Blaine reached into his pocket and produced a watch – the same silver hunter that he had bought for Kurt in Bath. "She gave me this and said that you had suddenly decided to return home. I thought...I thought that you had left me. Why didn't you write?"

"How dare you ask me that?" Kurt snapped. He was nearly as angry at himself as he was at Blaine, for until this last question he had been tempted to forgive him. "You, who begged me not to commit words to paper! How long have I waited for a letter from you? At least you would have known where to direct it. You never told me your address in town."

"Dear God," Blaine said, eyes wide. "I didn't. Mr. Hummel, I made a terrible mistake. Even after I learned what my father had done I thought that you must hate me, but it was all a misunderstanding."

"That was not all, though, was it?" said Kurt. "I understood well enough the things you said to me when last we were together, and what you were proposing."

"I only wanted to take care of you."

"I do not need for you to take care of me."

"Even so." Blaine gazed off into the distance, though there was little to see but fog. "Do you remember the day we went up to Beechen Cliff?"

"Yes," Kurt said. He would remember that day as long as he lived.

"We were speaking about the Princess of Wales, and you kept looking at me as if...as if you admired me. I thought that it was only because you did not know what I was. I resolved to tell you the truth, though I was certain you would be repulsed, because to do otherwise would be to take advantage of your naïveté."

"You must have thought me very simple."

"You were innocent." The words seemed to hang in the cold air. "I am not a good man, Mr. Hummel," Blaine said. "I am weak and cowardly, and yet proud enough to think I could play the hero. I hoped that if I did some service to your family, you might look at me again as you used to. As if I were better than I am. But I got it wrong again." He sighed. "I do not mean to impose upon you. I stopped on my way to Southampton."

"Oh?" Kurt asked, sounding foolish to his own ears. He had almost forgotten that conversations with Blaine could be like this, with new topics introduced without warning or preamble.

"I am going to the Continent."

He had spoken of his desire to travel when they were at Dalton Abbey. Kurt had missed his full meaning then, but understood it now. "You wish to see the world before you are married."

"I wish to see the world." Blaine looked down at the pocketwatch still clasped in his hand. "I do not mean to marry, or to return to England. I doubt that we will meet again, lest it be in another country. Or perhaps another life." He took Kurt's hand and pressed the watch into it. "Please take this. It is yours. As is my heart." He turned away quickly, as if he regretted his words. "Goodbye, Mr. Hummel."

This was not the ending Kurt had anticipated, but it was an ending. Once Blaine had gone, it would be as final an end to their romance as his marriage would have been. As final, even, as death. Yet at the same time, he saw that his life would continue without Blaine. It would be a safe life, and a comfortable one, and in some ways better than it had been before they met. Kurt knew now the strength of his father's love, and he had found a true friend and confidant in Miss Berry. This was enough for happiness. He would think of Blaine at times, often at first and then less often as the years passed, but there would be no lingering mysteries to haunt him. There would be no black moods to endure, no oblique conversations, no guessing as to what Blaine was thinking. Kurt need only say goodbye and it would all be over.

He did not say goodbye.

"You are wrong about me, Mr. Anderson," Kurt said, tucking the watch into his own pocket. "I am not as innocent as you think. The day we went to Beechen Cliff, I thought that you might kiss me. I wanted you to. Did you know that?"

Blaine turned towards him again. "No," he said. "I didn't know."

"Later I thought that perhaps I should be the one to kiss you, but I was afraid."

"Why?"

"I wasn't sure if you would want me to. You had treated me always as a friend. I had never been in love before, and I did not know what to do." Kurt clasped Blaine's shoulders, though he could not have said whether he meant to hold him back, pull him closer, or simply keep him fixed in place. "I still don't know what to do," he confessed.

As he said this, Kurt realized that while he did not know what he ought to do, he knew with complete certainty what he wanted to do. Perhaps this time they were one and the same. He learned forward and pressed a kiss to Blaine's lips. They were cold, like those of the ghost in the ballad, but soft and yielding. If this was wrong, Kurt thought, it did not feel wrong.

Blaine was the first to pull away. "Mr. Hummel," he said, sounding strangely hoarse. Kurt released his hold on the other gentleman and stepped back slightly, fearing he was about to be rebuked.

"Kurt," said Blaine, his voice catching on the final letter of the name. "Dearest." His lashes were damp with unshed tears. "Come with me."

"Where?" Kurt asked, bewildered.

"France, Switzerland, Italy – I do not care, so long as you are with me. I love you. I love you, and no other. I will swear any vow you like." He took Kurt's hand and clasped it in his. "Let's run away and never look back."

Thrilling as this offer was, Kurt knew he must refuse it. "I love you too," he said, struggling to hold back his tears. "I always loved you. But darling, how can I leave my family?"


End file.
